


Down By The Water Before I Sleep

by Her_HC7



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Historical RPF, LOVECRAFT H. P. - Works
Genre: 1933-1937, American History, Angst, Atlantic Ocean, Bargaining, Boats, Character Death, Dark, Dark Fantasy, Death, Depression, Dreams, Emotional Hurt, Fantasy, Godesses, Gods, Horror, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Torture, Island - Freeform, Kidnapping, Light Fantasy, Memories, Ocean, Original Character(s), Rhode Island - Freeform, Robert E. Howard - Freeform, Sad Ending, Science Fiction, Torture, Violence, Writer's Block, Writers, abnormal, mafia, vintage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-10-17 06:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17554760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Her_HC7/pseuds/Her_HC7
Summary: After writing many stories upon his Cthulhu Mythos and returning from New York. A marriage gone wrong, Howard Phillips Lovecraft trudges back into Providence, Rhode Island to live with his aunt.After receiving a letter from one of his idolized authors, Robert E. Howard, inviting him to see him, he accepts.By upon arriving, Robert tells him some chilling news. News upon his fantasy stories, stories of his own indicating that Lovecraft may have been right.Those ‘Gods’, Lovecraft’s ‘Gods’ are indeed real, and they are awakening....





	1. Prologue

 

* * *

 

“ _There_ _are_ _horrors_ _beyond_ _life's_ _edge_ _that_ _we_ _do_ _not_ _suspect_ , _and_ _once_ _in_ _a_ _while_ _man's_ _evil_ _prying_ _calls_ _them_ _just_ _within_ _our_ _range_ ”.

 

- _Lovecraft_

 

* * *

 

 **August** **31** , **1932**

 **Block** **Island** , **Rhode** **Island**

 

A young man ambles along the dirt road from a gloomy port. A harbor that has been built in recent decades, one that creeks ominously in the currents. Many boats sit silently on the water as other fishermen, barons and maidens walk about, hurriedly as if excepting something disastrous to happen.

 

He hurries to a house he has built only days before. Land that he has purchased from an odd looking baron off in Narragansett Bay.

 

Scared, as the sky is beginning to darken. He looks up and gasps.

 

“Oh lord mercy”

 

A ball in the sky, infinite black that should not be there. It was purely alien but it was not at the same time. The moon was moving, moving faster than he ever saw it before.

 

It creeped vastly, quietly with extra force across the sky, covering the sun. Like water putting out flame, the moon began covering the sun and with that went the light.

 

“Hell!! Hell is being decended upon us!” The man began screaming in terror and bolted.

 

He had never seen anything like that in his life.

 

Other people around him had the same reaction. But the yelling and screaming went unnoticed to his ears.

 

Suitcase in hand he tripped on a branch and fell. His body hit the ground with a loud impact. The wind was knocked out of his body and he scrambled to his feet. His suitcase lay a few feet in front of him. He launched himself at it and grabbed the handle. Petrified he began running again.

 

A few more steps and he saw his little cottage. Set on a tiny hill overlooking the Atlantic sea. Arriving at the door he frantically jerked it open and slammed it behind him.

 

Looking back the sky was nearly pitch black, like ink upon paper. He breathed in and out. Scrambling with his fingers in the dark he opened his suitcase and searched around. He pulled out clothes, books and finally candles.

 

Muttering... Muttering....

 

“Pray to your gods. The gods of the universe. The gods of the universe, of the stars.”

 

“Oh lord, do spare me. This is an omen!”

 

Lighting some candles, finally brought bright light to inside of his cottage. Casting shadows of all shapes and sizes upon the walls.

 

There was no electricity yet, he hadn’t yet had the time to be able to install it. Ij the future he was sure to place it in but that could wait right now.

 

While placing the candles on a table a loud crack was heard.

 

He paused, another one insured and then another one. Muttering began and disappeared. He gulped, he hoped it was just vermin.

 

POP!

 

The young man jumped, his eyes going wide. His hands shaking in the partial darkness he sifted through his suitcase. Feeling cool metal his fingers locked on to it and withdrew a Enfield No.2.

 

His hand shaking he slowly picked up a candle with his other hand an tenderly walked forward.

 

As he appeared in the foyer like part of his cottage. The noises seemed to be coming from the great room of the cottage.

 

The candle’s light flickered uneasily off the walls. Shadows spilling everywhere. He finally got to the door of the great room and paused as he heard voices. Breathing slowly he listened.

 

The voices, the words filled his ears with odd familiarity but It made no sense. Confusion swirled his mind as he stood there. Shaking now he turned the corner and his heart dropped.

 

In the room, now illuminated by his candle and ones of their own stood four men, dressed in robes and old vintage clothing. With golden metal tied to them.

 

They whipped their heads to him, all three except the fourth who continued chanting. They had eyes. The fourth he could see, had one eye. The other was covered. 

 

Over the whisper of chanting and the young man’s frightened breath they chanted in unison to him.

 

“You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here”

 

“Forbidden! Forbidden!”

 

“What’ve you seen is forbidden”

 

“Pray to him or lease we shall spare your life”

 

Their eyes gleamed with grey gloomy sight. The look of reality that he’s been lost, eyes that haven’t seen the light of day. The joys of man and Earth. Those eyes were dead.

 

“No... No! Please don’t!”

 

But they advanced, taking steps forward he freaked.

 

He closed his finger around the trigger and the gun fired. Straining his wrist as a loud band occurred. One of the men fell dead.

 

The two cultist didn’t stop in their footsteps and he fired again and again. He timed until the barrel was out. He still kept clicking his hand against the trigger, it clicked and clicked. Nothing happened.

 

The two men were now lying dead but he didn’t notice. He looked back into the room, shaken, the other wasn’t there.

 

Something odd, something partly human touched his ankle. He screamed, shaking his foot and dropping the gun. The man ran out from the cottage in darkness that was beginning to brighten once again.

 

Just like a new day.

 

* * *

 

 

 **The** **Witching** **Hour**

 

Orion’s belt was shining brightly as mysteriously, the stars of the planets circling the sun could be seen. Uncannybut none took notice..

 

The mysterious man with the missing eye returned. still covered in blood from his dead cultists friends. His clothes were ripped in many places and his fingers darkens in soot as he crouched down in the darkness.

 

He picked up the discarded Enfield, his hands wrapping tightly around it. The cool of the metal soothes him as he stumbled to his feet.

 

Searching the barrel of the gun showed no bullets remaining. The cultist ambled to the door of the cottage, finding a knocked open suitcase. He pulled out a silver bullet from a collection of them and inserted it into the barrel.

 

Walking back he tripped to the center of the room he fell into the middle of the circle. The circle being drawn from a variety of symbols.

 

The drawings showed in the room, symbols of Satan and the Elder sign. The candles that milled about were out, some fallen or melted to the core.

 

The bodies of the three littered the room, blood splattered about. The man that had intruded upon them has long since gone.

 

He staggered once again to his feet. To lazy to light the candles and remove the bodies. He would finish the ritual without it. It would work nonetheless.

 

He began chanting the same words as he did earlier, adding a few new ones. Swaying back and forth with his eyes closed like someone possessed.

 

" ** _Ph'nglui_** **_mglw'nafh_** **_Cthulhu_** **_R'lyeh_** **_wgah'nagl_** **_fhtagn_**.".....

 

The last letters passed his lips and he stopped. Closing his eyes and breathing in he put the barrel of the gun to the roof of his mouth and pulled the trigger....


	2. Chapter 1: Returning Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timeline where Lovecraft actually moves back to Providence after his marriage and the death of his Aunt have been slightly moved to match the story. 
> 
> His aunt actually died when he still lived in Providence. Sonia & Lovecraft went their separate ways in 1929, that’s when he returned to Providence

 

* * *

 

 **February** **3rd** , **1933**

 

Howard Phillips Lovecraft sat by himself inside the coach of a old 1800’s train. He leans his shoulder heavily up against the side of the window, tired. Little chatter emitted from around him, not many people were on the train.

 

The whistle of the train abruptly cut through the air, it was priercing but eire in a way.

 

It was quiet, oh so very quiet. Both of his cases laid besides him at his feet as he stared solemnly out the window. Watching as the trees whipped by and sometimes catching a glimpse of wildlife and towns.

 

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Thinking and thinking.

 

He was glad he was out of New York, what a compacted civilized place. It was just too much for him. He wanted desperately to be back in Providence. Back to the ocean state, his homeland. He was Providence.... After all.

 

But inside, even the joy of leaving New York City had its downs.

 

“Oh Sonia” He sighed.

 

He was already missing her.

 

He couldn’t blame her, she needed to work and care for her daughter, his step daughter. But when she suggested to move to a far away state he couldn’t, just couldn’t and of course that didn’t go well.

 

She understood him of course but she wasn’t happy. No matter what, the relationship was falling apart by the day. No, by the years. Four godforsaken years, spent mostly by himself in a lonely apartment in Red Hook.

 

Now he was on his way back to Providence. Back to his two remaining aunts. His money was growing thin and he only hoped that he could once again could land a writing job of some sorts to get him through. But it was wishful thinking these days.

 

Loosening his tie he tried to sleep the rest of the way. Three hours till Stoughton Massachusetts. From their he would take a motor vehicle back to Providence.

 

He drifts off to sleep, lulled to sleep by the soft chatter and train’s engine.

 

_Water, violent, cascadeouds. Thunderous. It invades his dreams, his peaceful sleep. Terrors of unknown sanity._

_There was a boat, a massive steam ship riding the storming waves. He clung to the side, white knuckled. From the monstrous waves, rain pounded down with such force he had never seen in his life. It drenched his clothes, his skin, his very soul._

_The ship bearded down on the next wave, sending water rushing onto the platform. It enveloped Howard and it nearly ripped his hands off the railing. His hands grew slippery but he held on with his dear life._

_The ship hit the base water with a resounding crack and he wondered if the ship had split for a moment. But the impact caused his knees to buckle and his fingers lost their grip. He yelled as his back hit the steel floor hard._

_As he lied on his back, water rushing to and fro on both his sides, the rain pounding into his eyes making it hard to see. Lighting cracked in the distance, a distance that became foggy. He was in a place that had no exit or entrance and the lighting cracked to his side violently._

_A complete hell hole._

_Another lightning burst resulted and it split the hull wide open. He went deaf, blinding his eyes as shocks went through his body from the electricity. He screamed from the pain. Hands clenching into fists and shoes scraping against the steel._

_As he was able to regain his sight he gasped. The railing had turned into horror, a horrible thing. Metal that began tearing became spiked tentacles that swirled and writhed. The metal around him morphed into sharp wet scales._

_The ship began rising out of the water, her bow turning up high. To the desolate hevans._

_His ears became deaf once again as inhumane noises streamed from around him. From beasts that were unknown._

_He covered his ears, desperately trying to block the noises out._

_In that time he didn’t notice as the ship ripped up, his body was being dragged tothe split in the middle. Just like the Titanic._

_As he looked down and saw the split nearing, his demises he realized. He began scrambling. Scrambling for his life. Fingers clawing at the slick scales, cutting his fingers open and blood leaked forth. Covering everything and anything in its path._

_To try to grab for a hold on the scales proved to no avail. He finally managed to flipp onto his stomach. Then looking up, he nearly lost his grip._

_A beast, unimaginable to the mind stalked its way to him. With a thousand legs, claws distorted and all. A body like of a man but not human. It had no face, only teeth. Drenched feathers of many colors sprouted from the tip of the monster head. Spines ran ragged along its sides and arms. Twisted scales where scattered everywhere with an eye that was placed on its midsection. It’s was a terrifying, a abomination._

_A massive sound came from the beast and Lovecraft clenched his teeth as he tried to scramble away. Which resulted in nothing happening._

_He suddenly could no longer feel any sold form underneath his legs and instantlyscrambled with his hands. Grabbing onto the ledge of the abyss he waved his legs back forth as his arms strained to keep his body up._

_All the while, the monstrous beast stalked forward to him and he stared blankly at it. Fear catching him in stomach and heart as it kept coming closer and closer. He began panicking._

_The terrifying thing was so close now he could feel it vibrating the ground and smell it. He scrunched up his nose at the smell._

_It began stretching one of its many arms out towards him._

_He had one other choice, and he willingly took it._

_Letting go of the meager hold he had, he let his body tip back and fall into the dark abyss. The monster screamed and the last thing he saw was blackness._

 

He starts awake by yelling. Well, someone was walking down the aisles yelling the arrival time to the station will be in ten minutes.

 

He is instantly awake. Dark brown hair a little unneat, tie disheveled along with his suit. His heart was racing, his mind on fire. He thoughts back, he breathed in and out. Trying to steady his heart. He hated sleeping.

 

He blinks somemore as he glances out the window. He tries to push the nightmare to the back of his mind. Desperately tries. It works. He needs to relax now.

 

He can see more towns than sparse wood pass by.

 

He turns in his seat, smoothing his hair down and fixing his clothing. Picking his winter coat up from the seat next to him he shrugs it on. Buttoning up all the bottoms and putting on two black gloves.

 

He taps his fingers against his knees as he watches the other passengers get ready. Doing the same as him.

 

He sees a mother and her child alone. The mother calms the joyous energetic child. He looks downward the aisle. A couple of men are seated down there, talking softly. Laughing.

 

To his right is a husband and wife, sitting silently, though smiling at each other with contempt. He quickly looks away, chest hurting.

 

The conductor once again walks by, now yelling they will be there in three minutes.

 

Howard sits ready, watching as the train begins to pull up to the station. The smoke from the front billowing around the cars. No one seemed to be outside in the station.

 

Soon the train comes to a complete stop with a whistle.

 

Howard dawns his dark hat. Setting it carefully but firmly atop his neat hair. Picking up both his cases, one filled with clothes and toiletries, the other with papers and journals.

 

Standing he waits as the couple to his right pass him and he proceeds to follow them. Meager amount of people fill the car as the walk to the exit.

 

Stepping off of the train onto the platform he was met with the wicked bite of cold New England wind. Ones that come from the sea that billow on the east lands. It made the bare trees sway uneasily.

 

The sky was dark, filled with grey cloud, telling of a possible incoming storm.

 

He directed his attention elsewhere and began walking to the exit of the cold barren platforms. Ignoring the other people he made his way to the back and stepped off.

 

A vechile awaited him as he requested before. The black Lincoln K sat lonesomely on the side of the road. Passsing the drivers side he bowed his hat, the driver did the same.

 

Opening the door on the trunk he put both his cases in, shut it and made his way to the front. Opening the passengers door, he took off his hat and grimaced as the cold air struck it. Quickly seating himself he shut the door.

 

Thankfully the car had been running and was so forth warm. Reaching in his pocket he revealed thirty five dollars. A tip, the actual amount and the extra for the gentleman to wait at the station. The driver, a blond haired man took the money, grinned and put the car into drive.

 

Howard wasnt inclined to speak with any stranger, he could of cared less. Looking at his watch indicated it was four pm. He would arrive in Providence by six. Just in time for dinner. Both his aunts would be so happy to see him, he didn’t mind.

 

The driver sat quietly, never saying a peep, and he’s thankful for that.

 

As the car grazes over the roads he watches stone straight ahead. That’s all he could do of course lest he wandered into his vicious thoughts.

 

He watches as trees, houses, even people go by. The natural North East Terrain he so loved. Ages old. Filled with all kinds unknown stories.

 

As the scenery grows boring he reverts back to his thoughts once again. He reverts back to memories with Sonia. Happy memories, older ones, ones when they first met.

 

* * *

 

_He remembers fondly one time, one perfect mid summer day. Walking alongside of Sonia in Providence. Her in her light grey dress, her pretty dark hair and beautiful flower hat. Him in a light grey suit to match her clothing and dress shoes as always._

_She had turned to him and stared rambling then asking questions. Like she always did. It wasn’t annoying to him the least, it maybe just a little._

_“Don’t you do anything fun Howard?! Have you! Oh please say yes.” She inquired._

_Howard looked at her and nodded._

_“Sometimes, but not often. Nothing relatively big” He smirked. She smiled back with her big grin and opened her mouth again._

_“I’ve heard rumors of a famous amusement park somewhere in the state. Is it true?” She looked at him expectingly._

_Lovecraft knew either way she was going to find out and bring him along. He didn’t partake in amusement parks but for her sake he might. They were a little too much, too much socializing. Well... to many people that is._

_“Yes, those rumors are real. There is indeed a amusement park in Warwick, near the bay. It’s called Rocky Point, an old park, from the mid 1800’s. I bet you want to go?” He raised a eyebrow at her and of course she said yes with joyous glee._

_“Well, do you think we have enough time Sonia?”_

_“We always do Howard! We always do!”_

 

* * *

 

He looked down at his hands and clenched them, straining as he felt his bitten off nails grind into his hands.

 

Revealing half moon circles he stretched his finger and looked up again.

 

He needed to stop, desperately so. It was like a disease. It wasn’t helping him yet he couldn’t help himself. She would always be a impact on his life. He pushed them to the back burner of his head for other times. He had other thoughts to deal with.

 

He needed money, a job. A writing job, he couldn’t, wouldn’t imagine himself working in a job that required heavy lifting or moving. That wasn’t an option. But the effect his stories had on many of people were repugnant and so forth, none wanted to buy them. The daring ones though, like his dear friend Robert E. Howard did. He loved them!

 

Without the money and nobody willing to accept offers to write he couldn’t possibly use up his aunts money, lest them going nearly poor like himself.

 

What even happened to his grandfather’s money. All that rich baron like posture, where did it go? He didn’t know, it could of saved him. Going after it was fruitless, it had been years since he died. He wouldn’t be getting it back.

 

The car hit rather a large pothole as they entered Rhode Island. He grunted as his head hit the ceiling. Rubbing the now sore spot.

 

“Sorry sir! You know these Rhode Island roads are the worst to drive on. Out of any state!” The man said sharply.

 

“Yes, yes, they are a nuisance alright” he grumbled back.

 

The papers in his second case, the brown leather one was a treasure to him. His lifetime of work. Writings to people, essays, on astrology and gods and goddesses of many of mythologies from the world. Papers filled with ideas and started works for new stories that never had been finished.

 

He liked writing, it was his passion but they became something dark most of the time. A darkness he couldn’t control no matter what he wanted to dream about. They controlled him, frightfully so but it was also what inspired him.

 

They were life and death. The abnormal, the most brutal melancholy things that a person’s brain could come up with. The most chilling horrible ideas. Some people wouldn’t be able to even grasp it, it was already difficult for him but he was managing. Even though it caused him great terror, little sleep at times but it came with a positive.

 

A outlet to his stories. Paper helped him get these ideas down and then create these miserable things into something, something horrifying but beautiful.

 

The nightmare from earlier comes back and hits him like a ton of bricks. It makes his body shake, he tries to press it down but it is for naught.

 

The driver notices. “Sir? Are you alright? Would you like me to turn up the heat?” He asks politely.

 

Lovecraft shakes his head. “That would be alright”

 

The driver turns the heat up and turns back to the road.

 

Howard knows he needs to get a grip on himself or some serious... shit.... was going to happen. It was bound to happen some day.

 

Instead he resides to contemptibly stare out the window with no thoughts. Only to watch the unique scenery.

 

He raised his chin, watching as he saw steam from the city rise into the air. The factories working and the low slanted roofs of the little houses. Others taller on main streets with at least four levels.

 

The car rattled as they came closer and finally entered the city. Many people, mostly men were walking to different places. Boys running around and waving newspapers, still at this time of day.

 

Snow contrasted the dreary bleak feeling in the small city. Laying in pieces here and there.

 

The car slows to a stop, back firing at one time from the cold. They had arrived in Providence at last. Downtown on the beginnt of a side street.

 

“Here’s your stop sir, hope you have a good day” The driver said lightly.

 

“Yes, have a good day too” Lovecraft muttered back. Exciting the passengers side, he dawned his hat and scrunched his face against the even colder climate.

 

Walking to the back of the car he opened the trunk and pulled out both of his cases. Shutting the door he walked back up the street. Waiting as the car rolled past him he began his way north.

 

Walking along the reddish brick road he headed north west of the city to a collective of houses.

 

Lillian Clark, one of his aunts lived in that area. Before he moved to Brooklyn with Sonia, he had stayed there for a couple of years with Lillian. It was a nice, cozy little house. Stuffed between other house all on little roads.

 

For the past year he hadn’t received any letter from both his aunts and he worried about them dearly. He knew they disproved the marriage with Sonia. They had told him no good would come of it. He ignored them but of course yet in the end they were right.

 

Bracing against the cold, he walked stiffly, fingers hurting from holding both cases. No vendors were to be seen, no animals, just vehicles. Even the ocassional horse carts we’re nowhere to be seen.

 

His sotmsch growled and he frowned. Such great timing. He picked up his pace. Already to be out of the cold. Brick buildings passed by him. Their low slanted roofs to the sky bleak. The black coalic steam rising from the factories polluting the sky. Making it hazy in the blue stormy ocean of vastness.

 

He crossed the street partly jogging. Startling as a horn was beeped at him.

 

“Damn people can wait” he breathed. A few more blocks to go. He crossed over to other streets, behind houses, and down other barren streets.

 

His feet skimmed the pavement as he finally tuned onto the road where his aunt, Lillian Livied. Just a few houses down from where his Orginal grandfathers Victorian house was, 454 Angell Street.

 

He stopped near the house and squinted. Something seemed off, so very off. Yes, the little stone statues were not there anymore. Nor were the pots. He grimaced. The grim reality hit him and he knew why his aunt hadn’t been sending him letters.

 

He let out a shuttered breath, feeling the cold bite his fingers and freeze the insides of his mouth. He snapped his teeth shut and turned to see a car pass. His toes were beging to freeze in the weather. He needed to get out of the cold soon.

 

Grumbling, he turned and began walking back down the street. He knew were his other aunt was living. The quiet street, 66 Collage Street. Up in the North East side, behind Brown University. A steep climb, sometimes even the drivers of their vehicles didn’t want to risk it.

 

As he walked North East he could hear the whistle of ferries and the Seekonk River raging.

 

Lifting his cases were beginning to be a problem. They became heavy with the cold and now he couldn’t think straight. Only walk to where he was headed, eyes straight forward.

 

After minutes of bearing the hard cold he arrived at the bottom of the hill. Looking up he could see the statue of Roger Williams in Prospect Park. He didn’t want to climb the hill but he had to.

 

Up and up he went. Winding his way between buildings and red bricked side walks. Past Prospect Park and onto 66 Collage street.

 

All of his body was aching, mostly from the temperature. His legs, oh that was a different story. They burned.

 

His cases clicked against his legs as he walked up the main way to the stairs then up those. The house was white with black panels. Two levels with many of widows. The roof was slanted with dark tiles.

 

Putting down his grey case he raises his gloved hand and knockes. Loud sounds are emitted from the wooden door then he waits.

 

A few seconds late a voice is echoed to him.

 

“Whose there?” It was denfintly his aunts voice, high pitched like always.

 

“It’s me, Howard” He blankly states.

 

The door emeditly swings opens and his aunt stands there, a slim dress with a warm fur coat. Her hair hangs down to her shoulders. Her face clear with no wrinkles but her facial expression shows a different sorry.

 

Her eyes are red, puffy and she looks worried. Worried out of her mind.

 

Howard frowns and steps toward, Annie Gamwell steps to him, open her arms and hugs him. He stiffins as her arms wrap around him but relents and tentatively raised his free arm and lightly pats her on her back.

 

Pulling out of her embrace he bends and picks up his case. She shuffles and walks back into the house. He follows.

 

“Oh Howard! Im glad you are alright. I apologize for not responding to your letters! Many troubling things have been occurring and so many new opportunities!” She rambles, beckoning him in.

 

“Sad news. Sad news has befallen us! Lillian... Lillian has past only a few days ago. So sad. I’ve been crying for days. Days!.”

 

“I’ve already sold her house.... Oh lord! Did you walk to her house then all the way back here! You must be freezing. Here, here, I have a fire going. Come sit by it and get warm. Hopefully you didn’t get frost bite”

 

The woman was beginning to ramble once again and most of the time it got on Howard’s nerves. But right now he felt bad for her. She was the last relative he had and him to her. She must of been devastated by the lost of Lillian. But this was not the time to grieve. There was always a time and place for it.

 

“Can I at least eat and put my belongings away?” He spoke. Watching as she ran about through some of the rooms.

 

“Oh yes!. I’ve moved your things to the top right room. Hopefully you’ll find it comfortable there. It’s a nice little warm room.”

 

He nodded. “Thank you”. Turning he made his way to the stairwell and ascended it. The stairs squeaked and groaned under his weight. He made it to the top and continued down the lowly lit hallway. A door on the far right was closed, brown wood. He pushed it open.

 

Inside was a relatively medium room, warm to the skin. The room was was squarish with white painted walls. A bed sat by the window, near the back of the room, accompainioned by black and white covers and two pillows.

 

To the left was a long desk with a dark cherry colored chair. Next to the door stood a black dresser and mirror and to the right a bookshelf.

 

Howard continued into the room, closing the door behind him. Setting his cases down on the bed with his hat and coat he walked towards the bookshelf.

 

Books by Edgar Allen Poe, Bram Stoker, Sir Arther Conan Doyle, Robert E Howard lined the shelves. Alongside poems from many of people like T.S Elliot and again the legendary Poe. Besides those horror like novelties there were also books on New England, Salem and astrology.

 

He needed to thank Annie for making the hassle to bring his stuff back to the house and setting it up for him.

 

Taking his gloves off he discardes then on the bed and runs his fingers along the spines of the books. Loving the feel of the texture. He turns back to the bed, opens up the dark case and scoops out his clothes. Walking over to the dresser he tucks then away. Then puts that case away into the empty closet.

 

Taking his other case, Howard moves it over to the desk and sets it down. Taking a seat he begins to unpack all the papers. Putting some into the drawers while letting some stay on the top. He puts the case away like the other.

 

Moving more papers to the right he was about to pick up his most recent paper and begin reading it when knocking abruptly stops him.

 

“Yes?” He calls out.

 

His aunt opens the door.

 

“Oh good. Looks like your all settled in. I forgot to put this in here but this letter is for you.”

 

She places the letter next to him and turns to go. She stood and looks back.

 

“Dinner will be ready in a couple of minutes!” She disappears after that.

 

Lovecraft divides his attention back to his desk. Clearing it he picks up the letter and reads where it came from and who.

 

He gently smiles after reading the name.

 

Robert E. Howard.

 

They had been for the past three years writing letters to each other. Even at one point meeting each other. Howard indeed st meeting him and writing to him thought he was a good man. Funny in a way he enjoyed talking to him.

 

He would even say they were good friends.

 

He carefully tears open the waxed seal and pulls out a piece of paper. Full of unique cursive inked letters. Ones that belonged to Robert himself.Reading it at once was intent as he read now carefully.

 

‘Howard,

 

I’ve heard that you are returning to Providence. I’m sorry to hear what transpired with your wife. To you, it was most likely sad but I hope you find solace in being back in your home. I know you dreaded being in New York.

 

I’m going to be heading to Massachusetts soon and by the time this letter reaches you, your most defiantly going to be in Rhode Island by that time. I’m hoping you can meet me at the Providence Library at 10:25 am on February 4th. If you don’t arrive I understand. I know you have much going on. Though I do have some interesting information I would think you would be eager to hear.

 

Robert E Howard. ‘

 

The letter ended and he gently put it down. He would go of course.

 

He raises his head and looks out one of the windows lining his room. Watches as a few people mingle about, coats blowing.

 

There was no more need to stay in his room at this time. His stomach growled loudly.

 

Making his way to his door he shut it behind him carefully as he stepped out into the hallway. Making his way past closed doors he reached the stairwell and descends it. Fingers gripping the cool steel railing tightly.

 

Upon reaching the bottom he could smell that dinner was cooked and ready. He made his way into the kitchen. Seeing his aunt mill about with the plates and the pan. The table was already set.

 

She turned and handed him a plate, he took it.

 

“We have a lot to talk about. I know what you heard earlier must be... shocking!” She announced scooping mashed potatoes, vegetables and steak onto her plate. He follows suit.

 

Soon they were sitting at the small table, eating cautiously. Howard couldn’t help but eat faster than normally, mind his manners but he hadn’t eaten for some time.

 

His aunt finally begins talking and he raises his eyes partially.

 

“Yes, you’ve missed a lot, dear Howard.

 

“I know, I know” He replies.

 

She snorts.

 

“Why ever did you run off with that lady? Look what became of it! You didn’t get nowhere now your back here with a divorce on your hands!” She said sharply.

 

Howard didn’t reply.

 

“I’ve been getting your letters, even the ones to Lillian. I would of replied but I’ve found a new job! Then Lillian had passed and I had to deal with all that. Such a whirlwind” she covered her eyes with her hand.

 

“Oh about Lillian!” Annie jumps up in her seat.

 

“Her funeral will be in a hour and forty minutes. Dress nicely, we will be driven there.”

 

“Swan Point I assume?” He asks.

 

“Yes of course! All our family is buried there! Even you when you go. But god forbidd! Not for a long time!” She smiles lightly, sadly. Looking off with glassy eyes.

 

She begins rambling after, natter natter. He didn’t particularly care. Nothing to him has changed besides the loss of Sonia and Lillian. Both would always hurt.

 

Toning out of her voice he finishes his dinner.

 

Putting be utensils on the plate with the empty glass he leans back in his chair and lets out a sigh. He feels contempt and sad at the same time.

 

* * *

 

Later, standing in his room he observes his clothes in the tiny mirror. All black of course, perfect and straight. He tugs the tie a little, flattens his hair, dawns his hat and goes down stairs to meet with Annie.

 

She was dressed in a black dress, a black fur coat and gloves. Her hair up and twined.

 

They made their way out of the house, a black vehicle awaited to them outside. They reluctantly entered and sat quietly.

 

The car jostled them as it made its way to Swan Point. Going pass the rich houses, through the black gates lined with rocks. Up the pavement to the building that was first in their sights.

 

They exited. Howard looked around. He had only been in Sawn Point a couple of times, for the sake of visiting his family’s graves and knowing that Poe had walked in this graveyard at one point. Even his live was buried here.

 

He couldn’t see the end of the cemetery. It went in for some time, some of it ending as it reached the Black Stone River. Many statues and stones lined the small hills and around trees. It was a depressing place.

 

Every time he entered any cemetery, even this one he could feel the aura changed. His stomach would drop low in his gut and he knew something was off.

 

Other people milled about, not many more than twenty five. Few. Howard only recognize a few. The rest, he had no clue.

 

They entered the first building. It was grey and black inside. With red and black carpets. Chairs scattered about. A priest off in the corner mumbling.

 

Her black casket in the front. Walked up to Lillian’s casket, payed their respects and backed away.

 

Annie began crying, pulling out a tissue st seeing her sister stone still. Howard kept a straight face. It was painful to see her with a almost eerie calm face, like a facade. It was unnatural.

 

He didn’t like places like these. Made him uncomfortable. He didn’t know exactly why.

 

Not one person came up to talk to him, neither did he venture so to talk. Standing in the corner, face straight, eyes straight and waited.

 

Waited for them to take the casket. Carry it out into the air, the final breath it would have. To walk to the Phillips and Lovecraft plot, open the ground up, the world up and deposit the coffin there. Leaving it for internity.

 

Till the people forgot about. Till the plants and animals forgot. Till the world forgot. Till the stars turned to dust and the universe would drag on. Till everything and anything would forgot this lonesome moment of death 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rocky Point was founded in 1847  
> One of the most popular amusement parks to date in the North region of the USA.  
> Don’t be fooled, some of the rides weren’t safe, people had been killed on them. Even a murder of a little child in the 1890’s transpired there.  
> It’s not a happy place.
> 
> Rocky Point closed in the 1990’s.  
> Now it’s a park, a tourist attraction still, with some of the old monuments still standing there to this day


	3. Chapter 2: Robert Has Odd News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly killed myself over this chapter. It didn’t want to write itself
> 
> The others will be easier I bet

 

* * *

 

 **February** **4th** , **1933**

 

Footsteps echoed off the pavement as Howard made his way to the old Providence Library. He was on his way to meet Robert. A friend who he had met a couple of years back. The man loved his work and so forth, began sending him letters. They’ve been doing this for some time now. Finally they were meeting face to face once again. They’ve only met a number of times outside of letters and Howard was intrigued at what Robert had stated in the letter. About something that would surely catch his attention. He was curious of course. Besides that, he couldn’t wait to ask if Robert has started any new projects.

 

He had taken his coat with him just in case. It was thrown around his arm as it wasn’t that cold out. A mild fifty seven degrees was enough to walk with a warm shirt. He enjoyed the warm weather and basked in the pleasure of its warmth. He was in a good mood today.

 

As he walks down the street a paper boy runs up to him, yelling.

 

“News! News! Only for a dollar!” The boy yelled this with a high pitched voice.

 

He declined and kept on moving. A horse carriage made its way past him. The bay draft snorting, the driver yelling nonsense.

He looks back at the horse. The lonefull way caught his eye and in that moment the animal stared at him with soulful sorrowed eyes. Beckoning him to save him. Lovecraft teared his gaze from the animal and loooked down. Down at the cracked pavement.

 

The funeral yesterday was dark, and heartbreaking. The sky was beginning to darken as the coffin was laid to rest. They had scurried their way back to the house, afraid of being stuck outside at night. Aunt Annie quickly went into a separate room. All to herself as she grieved. Howard instead made his way back to his silent room and picked up the letter once again.

 

Reminiscing on the dark day he arrived at the library. Old dark stone carved with great architecture was the design the library held. He stepped up the stone steps, pulled the carved cooled handle and heaved. The door swung open and he entered.

 

The library greeted him with it’s low dimmed lights, slight murmurings, and people walking about. With old dusty wood furniture it stood silent. It smelt nauseatingingly dusty. He proceeded forward, pass the little foyer, through the long tables. To the middle back of the library, for the staircase placed there. He made his way there and stepped up the grey staircase to the second floor. Golden lining shown bright on the chandlers and walls as his hand glided along the black metal railing against the stairwell. Turning right, down a long hall and into another huge room. Knowing, just knowing where Robert would be. He was correct as he found him among the back, among many of books.

 

Robert heard his footsteps and turned. His face lit up.

 

“Howard! Glad to see you! Hope you’ve settled back into Providence.” He smiled gladly as he put a book back into its place.

 

The man had several books in his arms besides the one he put back. He also had a collection of newspapers from a certain section of the library. Stuffed up against him he tried desperately not to wrinkle them.

 

“Been a little rough getting back here, but none the better” Howard replied.

 

“Come, let’s sit down” Robert spoke and Howard followed him as they both sat down at a round table in the back near a large window. They sit opposite each other, Howard resting his pale hands on his lap. The other man spreads out the books and newspaper and looks up at him.

 

Howard looked deathly straight back at him. The man mumbles under his breath.

 

“I’ve heard you’ve moved? Is that right” he inquired.

 

“Yes” Howard responded. Tapping his fingers against his leg. “More north, near that collage. Nice place among the hill. Apparently Edgar Allan Poe used to wander around there. Quite eerie, at night. It’s although nice.” He paused and began speaking again. “ I’ve heard you are working on something special. Something that’s been inspired by what I’ve written.”

 

Robert listened and his eye brows raised up at the mention of Edgar Allan Poe. Though when he was inquired about his writings he smiled, excitedly leaning forward.

 

“That! Oh yes, it’s a great idea. I’ve bet you’ll love it. Truly inspired by some of your works, the title shall be” and the man slowed to a whisper “The Slithering Shadow”

 

Lovecraft huffed, the name sounded ridiculous but nonetheless it sounding interesting. Plenty of his stories could vouch for a dumb name. Though he’ll strongly denie it.

 

“What? You don’t like the sound of it? Unless I’ll spoil it for you!” Robert laughed.

 

Howard shook his head. “No, the name sounded funny. I would rather not have it spoiled, all the stories I’ve read have been spoiled.” He smirked and Robert laughed more.

 

“Yes yes, all the stories you read are your own. Very funny and I might just may be offended to you calling my story’s title funny! But I’ll let it go. I know your more interested in what I’ve had to say about what I’ve found” Robert’s voice has switched to a much darker tone now and Howard frowned a little.

 

What could possibly be that he has to say that’ll be causing that type of reaction? Death, maybe. He had no idea what was about to hit him.

 

“Yknow I’ve read some of your stories. Certainly extroudinary. Though it does have to do with your belief. You’ve said you think there are layers of reality. That we can’t see what’s in one but they can be standing right next to us?” He waved his hand around him.

 

“Yes” Lovecraft leand forward.

 

“Do you believe your ‘Gods’ are real?”

 

“What? Are you saying they are real!” Lovecraft laughed. That was absurd. Maybe, just maybe he believes a fraction of it real. There was odd beings and ghosts definitely around them, though he never put much thought into it or noticed anything suspicious. His face went serious at this.

 

“Yes, I am totally implying that!” Jolsted Robert.

 

“You may not believe it but it’s true. There is evidence. Even if you believe it or not there’s proof. It’s... it’s mind boggling. I didn’t think it was real until I notice something like it for real! Not in person but these stories and this information I have gathered for you!” His hand went to his head, covering the top.

 

“Here, theses newspapers tells reports on mysterious happenings and these books have the info to back them up.” Robert pushes them towards Howard and he picked up the newspapers. A good bunch of them, at lest six.

 

Looking through the papers his interest spiked. A overwhelming anxiety, weirdness and sudden awareness finally hit hit.

 

Some reports were on strange things being seen in the sky, not UFO’s. No toatally not, but on giant beings. Shadows of them or something alike.

 

Unexplained activity in the oceans, most in the Atlantic. Off the coast of New England and Nova Scotia. Others reports were on people saying they got stuck in a time warp or were able to see more things than usually. Scary things that they didn’t want to elaborate on. Those reports were like people going to another universe. But not quite so..

 

The final report confused him, it was deathly odd, terrifying. It made him pause many times while reading. He had never heard of this event in the paper. A paper that was never released to the public.

 

The report was on odd happening a year ago, during the eclipse. On Block Island, near the harbour. A little cottage that was recently built was nearly destroyed.

 

Reports of gunfire had come from there during the full eclipse and when police went to investigate they happened upon dead bodies. One even half mutilated. All the bodies were dressed in robes with satanic signs on those robes and carved into the ground around them. Reports said they were all lying dead from gunshots wounds. Mortal they were.

 

It was unclear if the owner was there when it happened. They haven’t been able to contact or find the man.

 

Yet a weird sign had been carved into the floor, there was a grizzly photo of it in the paper.

 

The sign was the elder sign. The sign from the Necronomicon, a summoning sign! A sign he had invented. His breath catches and his heart dropped. What In the world? What was this? How could this happen? Where they summoning something? Or did they actually believe that what he wrote was real? Was Robert actually right or was he just plain crazy? Was what he wrote right, was this inspiration he got really was truth? How the hell was he able to see some ancient beings that no one had contact with? (Only in his dreams) A million questions raced through his mind but he asked a simple one first.

 

“How did you find this? It wasn’t even released to the public” Lovecraft questioned.

 

“I was walking around Narragansett and someone came walking up to me, stuck a newspaper in my face and demanded that I take it. Forced it into my hands and left. Running down the street like a mad man. After that I read it and it was so bizarre. I had to show it to you” Robert collect the newspapers and stacked them to his right.

 

Then showing him the four books he had. The information from the newspapers still hadent settled. Robert was to excited to show him more then let the evidence from the papers digest. Robert suggested skimming through the books since most pages were irrelevant. He would have to think it over later.

 

The first book he was given was one on death and spirituality. Knowing what was inside he looked at the chapters. Reading them carefully he flipped to the chapter about ghosts and where they might reside from. He knew most about what went on in what the book told. Not much was known about ghosts. Though there was little information.

 

The information that is explained is focused on going deeper as far as it could go to the present day, having options and such on ghosts. One theory was that ghosts lived on the face of the earth, not hell or heaven or any thing such like that.

 

It suggested there was different layers to earth, that what the Mayans had thought was true. The Mayans had imagined layers of earth, some higher or deeper than earth’s surface. One was hell and one was heaven. It didn’t mean that each layer was residing ok another place, different from earth’s surface. That some layers could overlap.

 

In hindsight it was suggesting that some people can see the ghosts because the layer of the ghost or dead resided on the same layer as Earth. That could be used forth as facts for these weird sightings and his belief.

 

That there was in fact different layers of Earth, different realms that could leak into their world and it was the idea that the dead weren’t the only ones that resided there. But old old beings with great power.

 

The second book was on secret societies in the world. That it suggested there was more out there than anybody new of. Small ones never discovered. This gave fact to the group found dead in Block Island. What could of been doing and if they were a cult.

 

The other book was on humans having contact with Gods or demons. So forth it stated ideas that he had already in mind.

 

The final book was irrelevant. He nearly laughed at it. Pushing them back to Robert he placed his hand to his head. Sighing, his eyes hurt. Thankful that he had brought his glasses with him. Tucking them back into his shirt he leaned back and look at Robert.

 

“See what im saying? I never thought anything of this till I heard stories of weird happenings then I looked more into it. Crazy isn’t it. Do you believe now?” Robert stated.

 

“I do , I do” Putting his hand on the table he watches Robert collect the stuff.

 

Lovecraft couldn’t clearly think, he needed fresh air. To much information, to much at such a small time.

 

“Let’s take a walk, do you mind, Robert?” He asked and Robert accepted.

 

The man rises, dawns his hat and spread his arm out. In a show like manner.

 

“Great. I always wanted to see more of Providence before I go” He waited as Lovecraft got to his feet.

 

“Are those book you’re Robert?”

 

“Nope. They aren’t”

 

They continued walking until they got to the stairs, down they went and to the return box. Robert slid them in and headed over to the article sections. It took a few minutes but the newspapers were finally put away besides the one he was given.

 

He joined Howard once again and they exited the library. The stood outside almost ok the street.

 

“Where shall we go?”

 

Lovecraft thought for a second.

 

“Ever heard of Prospect Park?”

 

“Never”

 

“It’s near the house I live in. A few streets over. It’s on a cliff, looks over the city.”

 

“Well then. Let’s go see it” Robert waiter as Lovecraft took the lead and joined him. Walking nearly in stride with each other.

 

“I never been real into thinking that mythic brings were real. I did think ghosts where here, that there were real accounts of them. I like to think of the idea for my stories of something to entertain which comes from the idea of supernatural things but not god like beings.” Robert mumbled.

 

“I think I’ve seen ghosts before but I am not sure. Nothing evil or malicious in mind. These were good spirits” Robert kept looking forward not bothering to look at Howard.

 

“I don’t think I ever encountered any spirits in my life. I would like it to stay that way” Howard stated.

 

“Why? Hmm.... You probably have a good point as to why.” Robert thought for a second.

 

Howard didn’t answer. Only intent on hearing what Robert had to say.

 

They guy chatted some more about spirits and ghosts. Howard just nodded and listened. It was odd hearing what others thought about spirits and ghosts. What about supernatural things? No one really or their mind to that besides the legends of Vampires and Werewolves but that was a stretch.

 

“Have you written any stories as of late?” The other man asked suddenly.

 

“No”

 

“You should get back to it before you start falling behind. Forgetting Howard! You should!” He grinned as he picked up his pace.

 

The man started then to chat about his writings and Lovecraft toned out. Still keeping an eye on where they went. He was thinking about how realities could be layered. Now was they even possible? He shook his head, he had already wrote about this in stories. He should know this.

 

They crossed a street, slowly walking across it as it was bare with no vehicles. Robert was still going on about his books.

 

Lost in his thoughts and ideas about writing. It was odd how he hadn’t written much or even thought about it until Robert had just spoke of it. It made ideas once again flow through his mind. Wondering if he had encountered a writers block with out even knowing it. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t.

 

Stopping now at the bottom of the hill they both looked up, seeing Brown University. They began heading that ways then turning away from it as they neared it. They didn’t speak as they ascended the hill. It was wickedly steep, so steep that it nearly took away their breath from walking up it.

 

When they got to the top, not the actually top. There was still a few streets to go but they were evened our to the park they stood there for a second on the side walk. Both of them puffing air.

 

Howard thought he was going to pass out. He hated that hill. Every time if nearly gave him a heart attack. Mind that, his heart was racing and his legs killed.

 

Goddamn hills.

 

“That hill is treacherous! How do people get up here with their cars?” Robert asked, slightly breathing fast now.

 

“A... a different ... way. On the other side. Easier. Takes more time” Lovecraft took a deep breath and regained his breath.

 

Starting to work again it only took them a few minutes.

 

They arrived at Prospect Park. A quaint lonely little place. Placed among some houses and trees. A statue lined the edge of the park, facing to the city. The statue was of Roger Williams. The park was hill like, panting downwards with green grass. Little lamp lights were scattered here and there. A nice little place.

 

Instantly Robert walked down the hill to the railing the separated someone from faking down the cliff. He leaned over the railing look down then looked up. To the city beyond, most of it was covered by trees but it was beautiful. Lovecraft joins him a minute later.

 

No one is in the park, it was deadly silent. Not even Robert talked. Resting his arms across the railing, Howard lenses his weight against it. Taking in the view. He had only been up here one other time, that time he couldn’t see much yet this time it was better.

 

The scenery was better, with the trees having no leaves it left a image where Howard could see the city from all the way up where they stood. He could see cars moving back and forth and steam rising from the industrial buildings as well as the boats going down the rivers.

 

“Turmoil this city has like any other city but it’s more peaceful” Robert began, still looking out to the city. The man stretched his arms out over the railing and glanced at his watch. His shoulders slumped.

 

“Unfortunately my schedule has forced me to leave early. I have to be in Boston in a couple of hours. Sadly I’ll be missing you. ” The man smiled and patted Lovecraft’s shoulder.

 

“I’ll be seeing you soon Howard, have a good day. I hope I haven’t scared you” He grinned.

 

“Nah, it was interesting to say the least. I’ll be more aware thanks to you. Till the next time Robert” Lovecraft uttered.

 

Robert dipped his hat and started away from him. Waving his hand above his head and he walked on. Howard watches him until he vanished. He in turn walked the opposite way, back to his warm safe home.

 

He has some questions of his own to figure out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 **February** **5th** , **1933**

 

He wakes to snow. White sheets that blanket the house and everything around it. Cold, soft and blinding. He stares out the window for some time, basking in its beauty. But the cold of his room hits him and he knew it was early in the day. The sun hadn’t warmed the Earth yet and everything shall freeze for a certain time. Including himself.

 

Opening the blinds slightly to let the soft light shine in he shrugged his coat on and went downstairs. Collecting a muffin,toast with jam, and a plate. He quickly made his way back to his room.

 

His aunt was sound asleep in her room as he passed. The door shut tight and soft snores coming from within it. He closed his door quietly behind him. Setting his plate on his desk he, sat on his desk’s chair and produced a couple of sheets of white paper and a pen he grabbed. He had an idea brewing.

 

The snow oddly enough had given him an idea. A story idea that hardly hit him this hard in months. It was blundering, the wicked urge to write. The ideas and storylines that raged through his head were intense and nearly shell shocking. These thoughts nearly worried him.

 

The story would be called Winged Death. A cold month inside another country, Africa. The inspiration for it comes from a random of thoughts that formed oddly in his head. Of how Africa is deadly in a way with their unique animals and insects. That one wrong step could kill a person.

 

Death’s Head. What a flattering name for a terrifying insect derived from tale. A inspiration for this tale of his.

 

A stretch from what he usually writes about but it was unique. Horrifying and bone chilling, making you squirm. It made him uncomfortable even writing about it.

 

The story was going to take a couple of days. He committed to it, he was finally back to writing after some time where he lacked. He loved the feeling of writing, the way that he carved letters across the paper. Having millions of ideas race across his mind faster than he could write them down. He couldn’t wait for the final product. The final product being absolutely elite or it wouldn’t go.

 

He stayed in that room all day. Writing and writing. Ignoring his aunt’s inquiring and desperation to get him to come down to the table and eat. He totally ignored it. Only getting up once for nessisary needs.

 

He stayed up late, setting a candle on his desk to get the feel of old horror.Turning on the room’s light which was dim. A perfect setting. Hours later he finally ended up falling into bed, early morning it was.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Days past as snow fell another day and the day after that. Still to cold and slushy to go outside. Barely anyone is outside.

 

Howard didn’t mind. His mind had been jammed with ideas of all sorts. Staying in his room like a hermit, his hair a little crazed, a good amount of coffee and a ton load of papers filt across his room.

 

He doesn’t remember sleeping, doesn’t remember what his aunt had been telling him. Only endless amount of coffee and paper. His hand hurt from holding a pen for so long.

 

The story was already a couple of pages long. Papers that were scrapped, drafts , and others that were final. Ink was smeared agaist his hand, possibly even his face.

 

He thinks he pasts out at one point, he doesn’t remember. Only knowing that he is awake again and it’s light out. The candle is all burnt out and his eyes feel heavy. They hurt.

 

His hand is curled around a plank piece of paper and his stomach growls intensely. His mouth is patched. His back hurts as well as his neck. He tries to stand and nearly falls. His head pounding. A margarine. His chair screeches as he stumbled to his bed and falls upon it. Passing out as soon as his head reaches the pillow.

 

He ends up one day, the snow nearly cleared outside, at the kitchen table. There are many papers with letters scrawled before it on the table before him. Coffee to his right and the newspaper in one hand. The smell of things cooking and hot steaming coffee wafts around the room. Comfortable. The paper’s feeling is joyous in his hand.

 

He skims the days news, barely interested in anything it has to offer. He’s reading though the section that holds author’s short stories. Looking for horror like stories. There is none.

 

Of course there is none, the paper people are to scared to submit any. To scared to get backlash, to lose money. It’s a shame even. Good writers with their stories could be enjoyed. But alas, it’s the way.

 

Though in his downcast his eyes skimmed over the job applications. One pops out and he fixed his glasses on his nose. Looking closer at this he re-reads it. More carefully.

 

A job application, one that fits his likes! Finally, a writing job. They were scarce and he couldn’t believe he found one. Its was about horror stories, even better. Immediately he grabbed a blank piece of paper and began at once writing to the company.

 

He needed this job desperately. His money was particularly gone and this was his savior. There was no argument, no judgment that wether he should consider it first.

 

He spends that time sorting the letter, carefully and considerate with what he writes down. Making sure to tell he had obtained jobs like this before, in New York as well and to tell that he has written many stories that have gained a good amount of money. Horror to be exact. That he was H. P. Lovecraft, a popular horror writer in Rhode Island. Maybe even through the USA.

 

After he sealed it in he dawned his coat once again and walks to the post office. Grumbling at the cold he carefully handed it to the post worker, more lighter on his feet he returned home.

 

He wasn’t able to concentrate on his newest story as he obsessed over the job. Thinking and thinking. He was bothered by his aunt many of times over what had gotten to him. He waved it off.

 

He was finally able to pick up his pen and write that night. But it seemed as if he couldn’t put his mind all into it that night.

 

The next day he finishes his story.

 

The story

 

The Winged Death

 

Something intriguing

 

Terrifying

 

Beautiful

 

 

* * *

 

 

 **February** **20th** , **1933**

 

Standing outside on the patio like deck, a actual warmer day than most in the cold month of the year, Lovecraft bathed in. With a cup of steaming coffee in his hand he whatched the sorry view of houses around him and the trees. People passed without a glance as birds chirped in the background.

 

His view was ripped away as he noticed the certain mail man was coming up to his house next. He grumbled and waited as the man made his way the the slight stairs. Now sending there, looking st him.

 

“Well hello there, sir! You’ve have some mail! Ain’t it a fine day to be out!” The young man was cheerful as he handed the mail to Lovecraft.

 

“Yes it is indeed” he took the mail, placing his coffee upon the rail as he riddled through the meager letters and bills.

 

“Have a good day sir” The man waved and moved onto the next house.

 

Lovecraft nearly scoffed. Two bills where in envelopes, a letter to his Aunt and... andone to him? The job! He instantly cracked a smiled as he carefully opened the envelope and took out the letter.

 

“Dear Mr. Lovecraft,

 

We read your letter requesting to work here, we do accept! Some of our employees have read works of yours and highly spoken of you before. Receiving your letter was a shock in many a way though we did have to revise what you’ve said and see if you were eligible.

 

The company revises horror stories both submitted to us and stories from around the world to put into our magazines and such. We also have our own writers working here. On your terms, you can do both but that would mean more time and work though a good payment.

 

Our terms are simple, most of what was just said. You will be given your scheduleand such when you arrive. All your question will be answered if you have any. Please arrive In Pawtucket this 23rd at 3 pm. You’ll se a building on the east side with our name.

 

Sincerely from,

 

The Rhode Island Horror Writing Company”

 

Howard was fully grinning, joy and excitement welled in his mind. Yes, finally he has scored a job after some months, maybe even a year. He needed this. Oh, it didn’t matter what the terms where. He would gladly do it even at any price or length. He only needed a job that had to do with writing. He had scored it.

 

Picking up his coffee, he hurriedly made his way inside to tell the news to his aunt.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 **February** **23rd** , **1933**

 

The days were seeingmly beginning to warmen. The tempature stood at a nice 50 degrees Fahrenheit. Nearly a record temperature in the month of February. It was a pleasure to delight in. No snow scored the streets or grass. Though the trees were barren and the grass yellow.

 

Lovecraft hummed as his bike cruzed along the street. Heading north and in no time he’s in Pawtucket. He’s taking the street of Hope Street, a long road that connects from his house’s road all the way to Pawtucket. The ride is quite bumpy, the roads are horrible.

 

Cars and horse drawn wagons past by yet they are barely a thing in his mind. A piece of the past, the wind that he breathed in mere seconds ago that’s now gone.

 

He pasts Swan Point, the old cemetery, mild and nice. He looks away, looking to the nice houses, rich houses that line the opposite side. He quickly enters Pawtucket and the road abruptly changes. Not exactly, it’s still the same road as before only a different name now.

 

The road takes him nearly all way to the center of Pawtucket. Low houses and old buildings pass as he steers his attention to the falls. Before getting to the center of the town he turns and goes down a specific road. Little ways down the road reveals a buildings, little larger than a house, it has two floors.

 

The ride there didn’t take long, it only took around a good twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of a steady pedal, not to fast, not to slow. He slides off his bike, not so graciously and looks up at the building. It has a small name plastered to the door. 

 

‘The RI Horror Writng company’ Setting his bike against the side of the dark brown house he walks up to the door. The door is the type that is long, no windows but has a metal knocker.

 

Taking the cold metal into his hand he wraps it loudly against the door three times. Howard waits, impatient. That adrenaline rush beats at his throat, threatening to spill over. The anxiety and excitement tears at his thoughts but he remains calm.His fingers curl and he shifts on his feet.

 

The door finally opens and Lovecraft is greeted by a tall women. Blonde hair, blue eyes, light dress. She’s smiles. He squints his eyes slightly, he doesn’t smile back.

 

“Why hello there, are you here for the job?” She inquires

 

“Yes” He simply states.She smiles again.

 

“Good, come on in. Our main office is in the front. The boss is upstairs, he wants to meet you. Presuming you are one, H.P. Lovecraft?” She speaks as she moves to the side to let him in. Closing the door and walking ahead of him.

 

“Yes, I am who you say”

 

“Good” Now I know you probably want to see the place first but let’s go to the boss. If that’s all good. Lovecraft donsnt reply yet follows the lady to the skinny staircase that’s near the front of the building.

 

They are now on the second landing and moving down to a door. She opens it and reveals a large room, filled with chairs, a couch and a desk. Rugs and chandlers. Oddly rich. Three people reside in the room at the time they enter. Two men and one women. One man is sitting on the couch, the other is standing with the women. They are talking but their voices drop as soon as they are met with the door opening, announcing their presence. Howard follows her in and stands awkwardly to the side.

 

He shifts his eyes to the man sitting on the coutch, only for a second. The man is wearing a red vest, black dress shirt and black pants and shoes. Short brown hair and a goatee, the man looks relaxed with a book in his hand. A pen in the other.

 

He stops talking and looks at him. The man immediately starts grinning.

 

“Thank you, Shea.” His voice is gruff, unnerving.

 

“Always welcome” Her voice is different, high. “Now Roy, I have to go finish with those revising and mailing. I’ll be up soon.” She passes Lovecraft and makes her way out the door.

 

Howard stands still, waiting. The man puts down his book and stands.

 

“Now now, she’s our secretary. Don’t mind her.” The man smiles as he walks up to Lovecraft. Sticking his hand hand out for a shake Lovecraft hesitates for only a second then complies. The man’s hand is dry though not cracked. The man, ‘Roy’ has a weak handshake. Howard nearly laughs at it.

 

“H.P. Lovecraft? I presume” Roy inquires.

 

“Yes, you are correct” Howard replies.

 

“Right! Im am Roy Clark. Nice to meet you finally! Can I call you Howard by the way?”The man partly laughed. Waving his hand up in a manner of speaking.

 

“Sure”

 

“Great! Now here are my two good friends, Molly and Gerald. Don’t mind them, we were having a great discussion before you arrived.” The man went on. Waving his hand down he sat back on the couch.

 

“Have a seat, Howard”

 

Howard looked in Roy’s direction for a split second again and wandered over to the nearest chair, setting himself comfortably in it.

 

The two other people in the room seemed to get nervous or perhaps excited at who was in the room. Howard couldn’t tell. He was never good with human reactions.

 

He may have been right when the other man, who was quite young walked up the Roy and quietly conversed with him. The owner of the writing company laughed and patted his shoulder.

 

“Have a nice day, Molly”

 

“You too Roy, let’s go Gerald” With that the two exited the room and in no time was forgotten.

 

Roy turned back to Lovecraft and leaned back, throwing his arms over the back of the furniture.

 

“Now, I’ve heard some about you. A amazing writer that is, popular but not popular. Odd isn’t it? How one horror writer could inspire so much yet terrifying so many. It’s a wonder how the whole world hasn’t seen your works yet. Or what their reaction may be” The man spoke with a awe in his voice but not so overwhelming.

 

“I haven’t read any of your works yet. I should soon, maybe after this. Would you like to recommend any?”

 

Lovecraft was struck. A request? A request as to what to read by him? That made him anxious, he was certainly picky with how his writing came or and how they stacked against each other. He thought for a second or too.

 

“The dreams in the witch house, The Hound and The Dunwich Horror” He spoke flatly.

 

The other man’s eyebrows shot up.

 

“Sounds... very interesting, I’ll be sure to check them out” The man paused and then continued.

 

“I know your here for the job, not for talk about your stories or anything else.” The man withdrew three papers from besides him that sat in a case.

 

“That you’ve already been approved. Here is a list of some more terms, the other paper is for you to sign to take the job permanently. I know I know, your thinking that this would be more of a interview. But your status and writing has passed you on that. Also you’ve worked in writing companies before so this will probably be easy. You don’t need to be droned upon.” The man reaches across and strained, giving the papers to Howard. Who gladly took them.

 

“The other is your schedule if you accept” Turning the papers around to look at them, Howard skims his eyes over them. The terms were short, easy adapting. His schedule was odd but he approved. It fit his interest.

 

“I’ll take it” He simply says, monotoned.

 

“Great!” The man claps and hands him a pen. Lovecraft takes it and signs. Handing back the signed paper he keeps the two others, folding them and placing them within his coat.

 

The schedule consisted of him being able to stay at his house as long as he pleased. Only visiting the building once every week.

 

“The schedule is pretty nice, how this company can twist it. Is it fine by you?” The other man inquired, leaning back.

 

“Sure is, anything else?”He questions. Just in case.

 

“Yes there is! I’ve got reminded. So before we are done”, Roy waves his hand dramatically around. How bout I show you around. So next time you are not lost. The man casually walks out of the room, beckoning him as he complies. He is standing in the hall as Howard comes to stand next to him. There are two other doors, both shut.

 

“The room we were just in you could probably tell what is was. A office like place. Most of the time I stay in there” He waves his fingers in the direction of the room then points to the next door. “Bunch of papers and old horror books are sorted in there and the other door is locked. Always been. Never been able to get in it. The room has no windows either” The man shrugs and starts deciding the stairwell.

 

As Howard passes the door he stared intently at it. It looked like any old door. Wooden, nothing amiss. His skin chilled and he stepped away. Something was deadly wrong and he didn’t dare find out.

 

Quickly following Roy. He made his way downstairs, back to where he regionally started.He could hear a few people taking and a type writer going. The man preceded to walk into the hallway which opened up to a big room. A room the envelopes the whole house like presence with another room off to the side.

 

A couple of people where in this room, twelve people. Most of them sitting while the rest walked back and fro to the other room. The ones that sat had parr’s and typewriters. Intent on revising and writing.

 

“As you can see this room is out main work room and that other room is Shea’s Office. Not much but a good start, it gets what we want done. That is all” The man playfully bowed, crossing his arm down and jumping back up. Chuckling he spoke again.

 

“Have a good day sir! I know you’ll be well at this”.

 

Nodding a farewell and shaking the man’s hand one more time he made his way back outside to the fresh open air.

 

Taking his bike out from the side we’re it leaned against the building. Howard swung his leg over, moved the bike to the street and let it glide along. The papers he were given were nearly folded in his coat’s inner pocket, undisturbed.

 

The day was still bright out and the job successfully achieved. A good day. He nearly cracked a smile as the bike took him down some roads in the old town.

 

Yes, this job was a perfect job for him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _The_ _park_ _was_ _located_ _on_ _the_ _bay_ , _the_ _bay_ _side_ _of_ _Warwick_ , _straight_ _south_ _of_ _Providence_ , _looking_ _towards_ _the_ _islands_ _of_ Jamestown, _Prudence and Newport._

_Howard never wanted to visit Rocky Point. Forget the mass of people and laughing, children that shrilled and hurt your ears. Those curses and the murder! Oh the murder! That terrible time in the 1880’s. The poor child being murdered by her father! What would posses him to do that? What of the rumores of the Indians cursing this land? It was all muddled and nearly now forgotten._

_This fair had already claimed lives and he didn’t care to be the next. He avoided the place at all costs because of this._

_Though as he walked, arm in arm with Sonia he didn’t dare spoil her mind and her spirit with this knowledge. Her footsteps where partly hurried, excitement testing her mind as he was pulled along. He wanted to roll his eyes._

_Going up the hill they crested it and walked slowly down the light hill, coming to the opening. Where the trees parted and the buildings and into view. Sonia grasped and Howard chuckled. He knew what the place looked like, what it felt and breathed like._

_Sonia, she was in a transe, and she grinned._

_Of course the first thing that she could see was a Ferris wheel. There was a water tower or perhaps a watch tower that looked above the rest of the park. Many buildings lined the place, with a merryground, docks and harbors and a little beach. Steamboats moved from the bay to the docks and fro. Their steam curling and fading into the sky._

_As they walked, they encounter people. Many men and women, dressed in suits and dresses. They laughing gleefully. Some children with their with them even._

_The place had a uplifting auroa, light blue sky and warm weather that day. Green, lush trees and plants scattered around the park. All the roads were paved, little roads that spanned out as it reached the bay side of the park._

_Sonia was pulling him towered the Ferris wheel and his face went pale. She didn’t notice._

_“Sonia! The rides can wait, I haven’t eaten all day! Let’s first enjoy ourselves in the restaurant. They do have a ball room, in the middle and they have the best chowder ever made.” He tried to persuade her mind as she teared her gaze from the excitement and looked st him._

_“Yes, that would be lovely” she spoke. She was maddeningly indecisive sometimes. This particular time saved him._

_Taking her arm once again he lead her to the Rocky Cafe, a quaint but modest building. Smaller than the Shore Dinner hall but it still offered food. Besides it was the closest one to them. Walking down the little pavement road, past people and buildings, near the water, up a hill they arrived at the restaurant._

_Going inside met them with ball room music, people and laughter. Chandlers hanged from the ceiling, casting beautiful light. They were eventually led to a small table in the back corner with a widow overviewing the water. A perfect seat. Pulling the seat back for Sonia and waiting for her to sit he resumed his seat and promptly ignored the waiter._

_Sonia set their drinks as she picked up a piece of paper laid against the clothed table. Amongst flowers and silver ware. Skimming it she looked up and asked._

_“Didn’t you mention Chowder? They have it here amongst other things. Should we order it?”_

_“We should. It’s one of the best chowders ever made. Better than New York red chowder even. You’d be amazed” he looked at her and she smiled._

_“Sounds delightful”_

_The waiter returned on a fast note and set down their drinks._

_“Have you decided?”_

_“Yes. Two New England milk chowders” Howard stated, looking at the waiter’s forehead. Avoiding their eyes._

_“Would you like the Oyster crackers with the chowder sir?”_

_“Yes, that’ll be good.”_

_The waiter smiled and walked away, disappearaning soon after._

_“Oyster crackers?” Sonia laughed._

_“Oh yes. They are little crackers that you put into the chowder. Pretty good, you’ll like them” Howard spoke._

_“Hmmm. Maybe I won’t” She laughed, her accent grazing heavily. “No, I do think I’ll like them. I’ve liked all the food I’ve had in New England” Sonia rattled on._

_They chatted and chatted, mostly about nothingness and that of Rhode Island and Rocky Point. Question mostly by Sonia of the little state and it’s wide variety of things to see and do amazingly._

_Soon after the waiter arrived with their food and set it down. A smile plastered across their face._

_“Hope you enjoy your food, Miss. Anything else?”_

_“No, no thank you” Sonia replied.She turned to Howard as the waiter walked away._

_Howard watched as Sonia first tasted the chowder. Her eyes lit up and he chuckled._

_“This is excellent! Best I ever tasted. Can’t believe I’ve never had it before” She smiled._

_“One of a kind. Never doubt little Rhody” He laughed and she grinned._

_Eating was another story. They barely even talked. The chowder had come with the oyster crackers as he ordered and he lightly shook them in, mixing them with the chowder. Taking his spoon, he dug in._

_Tuning out the laughter and music he focused on eating. Not one to like to dwell on people around him it was a stretch. Sometimes it caught him at doing this._

_He finished and sat back. He felt tired, tired from the hours spent in the sun before and tired from the food they ate. He wanted to sleep but alas he knew what was to become of this day as once they left the restaurant._

_besides that he looked to Sonia as she was finishing hers. She looked around and huffed. She had finished._

_“That. That was one of the best ever!” She highlighted. Suddenly she started looking around, now idly aware of her surroundings. Her sight was locked onto something in particular. Howard didn’t notice, he was staring off into space once again. Thinking and thinking._

_He startled as she stood._

_Standing, she turned to him. Smiling she reached her hand out, grabbed his and pulled him forward._

_Oh no.... He was such a fool to tell her and go to the building that housed a ballroom. What a fool he could be. He didn’t like to dance, barely knew even how to! And all the people that would stare at him. Oh the pain of that!_

_He was then dragged up and to the middle of the room. To the center of attention._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Lovecraft had writing jobs throughout his life, so I went rogue, made one up and jumped right into it.
> 
> The next chapter will jump into 1935, it’s gonna get more interesting, more sacrifices more suspense perhaps. 
> 
> On the information Robert told him, his questions weren’t answered but they soon will be in upcoming chapters


	4. Chapter 3: Gerald’s Request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna kill myself over writing this

* * *

 

 

 ** _June_** , **_1936_**

 

 

He is in a city, a big city. He doesn’t know which city exactly. That n he is on the city side next to a river. The large buildings are looming anxiously above them. Them? Withdraw and foreshadowing. It’s a dreary day yet no one is about. The river is dark and on the other side is dark trees. A foreboding forest.

 

He is walking along the wet pavement and to his right is Harry Houdini. Wait, wasn’t he dead? Didn’t he perish in this such river to his left? Howard looks down over to the river and back to Houdini who is telling him something. The words that come out of his mouth are blank. There is no sound. The man doesn’t look desperate or anything of panicky.

 

Many of times Howard has talked with Harry but not until the accident. The man should be dead. What was happening?

The man’s face was joyous as he went on and on. To Howard’s ears everything was deadly silent not even the noise of the river hit him.

 

He looked to the forest as yet it seemed not to be there anymore. Only a dark mass. The river was now raging. Waves splashing up against the wall of rock that separated it from the road.The water that did slash up caught them both. Yet as his attention was caught it began down pouring. Drenching Himself and Houdini.

 

The man barely seemed to notice it. The sky darkened a stormy grey even more. Lovecraft blinked his eyes, trying to clear the water from his eyelashes.

 

He looked to the sky and the clouds were shaping. Shaping a horrible massive thing he couldn’t describe. A mass, a mass of a beasts.

 

What was this? Was this real? It couldn’t be.

 

His attention was drawn back to Houdini who now walked in front of him. Walking backwards as he talked to Howard. His eyes darkened. A lighting flash erupted causing Howard to shut his eyes, there was no sound. When he opened them Houdini was still on front of him but his face was pale. He wasn’t talking.

 

Blood leaked from his mouth, black blood. It drenched his clothing already wet from the rain. God almighty! His clothing was ripped to nearly shreds.

 

The man backed up his, feet sloshing against the pavement and stood on the edge of the pavement. Above the crashing water and Lovecraft watched as horror creeped up on him. He could see what was coming but he couldn’t move. The man was suspended in air it seemed as a wave crashed upon the wall, forcing itself upwards as it enveloped Houdini. When it withdrew the man was nowhere to be seen.

 

Howard ran to the edge, dropping to his knees, kneeling on the hard pavement. Grabbing the edge white knuckled.

 

He leaned his head over, watching as the water crashed and roared without a sound. Gulping in air unsteadily he leaned more down.

 

The water under him split and crashed and with a surge flew up. Howard fell back as jaws with millions of teeth reached up and two gigantic mammal like arms crashed against the concrete. Completely cracking it. It raised itself up, still not completely out of the water. Locked itself onto Lovecraft and surged forward.

 

He screamed.

 

His eyes peeled opened to a room filled with darkness. One side was glanced by light from the closed blinds but he didn’t care to close it all the way.

 

His heart is beating to fast causing him to try to catch his breaths. He needed to. He is then tearing the covers off his body as he tries to move. His back protests strongly and he is lying still one more time.

 

Wiping sweat from his brow he rubs his face and breathes deeply. The fear from the nightmare is drifting away. Could he call it that? Fear? Surely he could.

 

Yet of Harry Houdini who he hadn’t thought about in years. Who he hadn’t spoken to since months before his death. That was a long time ago, even a decade ago. Yet he realized that in a few months it will be ten years since he died. Alas it was sorrow.

 

He worried much more about what these dreams meant. Why was he even having these dreams?

 

He stays in the bed for minutes upon minutes. Time moving forth slow or fast,he does not know. The only thing he knows it the face of the beast in his dreams in his mind. As it surged forward to get him. That repeating scene as it’s jaws opened and we’re about to envelop him before he woke up.

 

How Houdini stayed ob the edge of the road, suspended between gravity before falling. That black blood that ran down his face into the street. Creating a large pool of acid like water. Like yellow fever even.

 

His heartrace has finally settled back to normal and he lifts himself into a sitting place. Wiping his eyes as he breaths one more time. Everything was normal. Everything will be normal.

 

He stands and walks ever so slowly over to the blinds and opening them. Sunshine blears into his face and the room. He relaxes in its brightness even though it hurts his eyes.

 

At least it’s different from a stormy rain. He stands at the window, watching nothing as he looks out of it.

 

Turning to his wardrobe he dresses slowly. Muscles aching from staying still in such a position for so long. After he opens his door and goes directly to the kitchen.

 

He then stands in the kitchen, making coffee and toast with a little bit of jam. He also takes a tiny piece of cheese with him. Setting those down on the table he grabs the newspaper and lays it to his side.

 

His aunt is nowhere to be seen. She is probably sleeping again. She’s always sleeping. 

 

The house is deathly silent and this unnerves him. The silence ticking st his brain, ready to make him go insane. Ticking off the days, the nights, for years.

 

Taking his time with his breakfast he finally finishes and picks up his coffee. Siping the hot beverage, he skims the news. Finding nothing of interest he casts it aside and puts his plate back into the sink.

 

Finishing his coffee he feels more slightly disturbed. He returns to his room and collects his case wich is filled with papers and a book. He grabs his pen and pencil and heads out the door.

 

He is headed for Brown University which he now spends most of his time at. Mostly in the library, reading and working. The university had given him permission to go there whenever he pleases. He was joyous at the offer and gladly accepted.

 

The university was only a couple streets away and it took no time getting there. It was not so early in the morning as he entered the gates. People passed by, nodding and saying their helloes. He only dipped his hat in return.

 

One of the buildings which was the library he entered and walked along the corridor till he entered a room filled with books and some tables. No one was here. Perfect.

 

Setting down his belongings he seated himself and began taking out the nessiary requirements. This was his job for the past two years or so. Writing or revising and using the library worked with excellently.

 

Any information he needed was at his disposal. Picking up his pencil he digs himself into his story. For hours it is quiet and he is left to his head. Not thinking about anything or anyone as he soley focuses on his paper. Ignoring any urge to eat or get distracted.

 

He is more than halfway through his newest story as he is interrupted. A person stands near him and coughs to get his attention. He looks up to see the man who he only saw once before in his life. The man is skinny, slight, nervous.

 

He believes the man’s name is Gerald. The one that was friends of Roy Clark. He hasn’t ever seen him since that day. He barely recognized him but it is the man.

 

“Uh, Mr. Lovecraft?” The man’s voice is unsteady

 

“Yes. What do you want?” He turns back to his paper and sets his pencil back down when he is again distracted at what Gerald says.

 

“I know that we only met once, not even formally just a glance that’s all. This may sound like an odd request but I would truely thank you if you could help.” The man began stuttering.

 

“That man... Man!... Roy C-Clark is a bad m-m-m-man! Don’t trust him. I know you work - work for him but I advise you not!” Gerald stood there frightened.

 

“Why? Do you know why? I am content with my job. I rather not lose it” Lovecraft stated. The other man only shook his head.

 

“I can’t explain it. Can’t! Only that my wife has gone missing. Molly! Oh Molly” The man began sobbing.

 

“That drasted depraved man has something to do with it! Don’t you see, have you seen how he acts strange sometimes? The way he disappears out of nowhere” Tears streaked from the man’s eyes.

 

“I have. It is oddly weird”

 

“There! You see it! He did something with my wife! I know it!” The man stumbled to the chair nearest Lovecraft and fell to it. Hands buried in his face. Hands clenching his chocolate hair.

 

“How do you know that he did it? No, what even happened to your wife in the first place”? Lovecraft sat back.

 

“We were in there, Pawtucket with Roy! I turn to go and get something from another room. It took some time but when I returned Molly was nowhere to be seen and Roy was gone. The people in the building said they saw him leave but with no women. They said they never saw her leave and yet she was no where to be found” The man sniffed and looked at Lovecraft with sad brown eyes.

 

“And why did you come to me out of all people? Not even the police” Lovecraft sighed.

 

“Because, because the police believed it was me! Roy denies it and is keeping this low. He won’t let it go into the news and he is blackmailing me. No one gives a goddamn shit about what’s happened to my wife. Not even the people there. Even if I tell them I could get killed! And you, your never there. You could help”

 

“When did this all happen?” Lovecraft asked. Patience was going thin on him but he did feel sorry for the man. He didn’t want to be in this situation or even talk to the gentleman. The guy was in a distress right before him. His face a mess. He guessed that the man was right, he was now the only one that could help. But that still didn’t meant that he would. He didn’t want to loose his job.

 

“About. About a month ago sir” Gerald mumbled.

 

“Now how would I help?” Howard inquired.The other man sat their for some time. His tests were beginning to try and he wipes them away.

 

“By eavesdropping or-or going around and looking at papers that Roy never shares. You know those right!?”

 

“Yes and how do you think I’m going to do that without losing my job? I need to make money or I am a dead man! I only have this one job for the sake of staying alive! The few money I get is my food and resources for writing. Nothing less, nothing more. Even so I don’t care for that job.” Replied Howard.

 

Gerald looked down, his hair a mess.

 

“Can you, please? I know your famous in a way perhaps, but my wife, she could be in real danger!” The man pleaded. Lovecraft sat there, thinking.

 

What would become of this? If he did this it could cost him his job, maybe his life even. He looked over at the man, who looked depressed. He would do it, only for a deal.

 

“I will do it only for a deal”

 

The other man shot up in his seat.

 

“Oh thank you thank you! I’ll give you whatever you want!”

 

“Give me four hundred and fifty dollars and I’ll do it. But speak no word of this to anyone”

 

“Yes yes! I have the money right here!” The man looked away to his coat and peeled out the amount. Smacking it down onto the table. It echoed across the room.

 

“Easy now. Im not doing it right at this very moment. It’s going to take sometime” He took the the money and the other man’s shoulders slumped. Looking downcast.

 

“I’ll find your wife for you but when I find the place she is held I need you to come with me. Is that good?”

 

“Yes, yes it is. Thank you !” The other man smiled greatly.

 

Lovecraft sighed. He really didn’t want to go through this, it was like making a deal with the devil.

 

As he returned to this work he realized Gerald hadn’tleft. He stopped and back looked up.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I don’t know. I really don’t know” Gerald mumbled.

 

Lovecraft stared at him and then began tucking away his belongings. He didn’t think he would get anywhere in his story today. When finally packed everything he stood and walked over to the seated man.

 

“I don’t like going out to places with people I am not friends with. Yet I’ve just agreed to help you. It wouldn’t hurt to go to the bar with you and chat. Become like friends before i lose my job trying to save your wife. “

 

The other man looked at him and stood up.

 

“Sounds nice. Something just something to get my mind off of it.” The man mumbled.

 

They began walking to the corridor with a mutual agreement.

 

“What is your full name by the way?” Lovecraft inquired turning his head to Gerald.

 

“Gerald Cabanne” He spoke:

 

“Nice meeting you Gerald Cabanne”

 

“You too, Mr. Lovecraft”

 

“Howard please”

 

“Alright”

 

They head out of the university with out a glance and head downtown. Their steps equally matching.

 

Gerald began fixing his clothing, smothering his hair out.

 

“By the way Gerald, where are you from?”

 

The man snapped his head up at Lovecrafts voice.

 

“Oh, I’m from Wyoming, my wife is from here. Westerly I think.”

 

“I hope you don’t feel homesick here in this beautiful city and state” Lovecraft spoke with a proud tone.

 

“No not at all. I completed adore this land!” The man smiled. His brown hair which was wavy was now smoothed back, some of it falling over on the side of his head. He has a little mustache wich twitched as he smiled. No wrinkles creased his face, his clothes were thin but neat. A young man, in his twenties. Ambitions albeit soft.

 

It was evening out, the sun low in the sky. A warm inviting day. Howard thinks overall he had a successful day with writing. He does need a break. He’s been writing for some time now, days and days with no any breaks. This was much needed.

 

This will be a good break.

 

Downtown is filled with people milling about. Cars honking and people yelling. The city was one of the most richest out of all cities in the country even though it was quite small but it was perfect. It thrived.

 

Onto one of the streets they enter,a pub that was resting on the corner greeted them. Black doors open to low lights. Some people are inside. Smoking and laughing. Nothing else. The smell of food is prominent.

 

They are soon seated in one the areas in the middle section. Lovecraft sets his case down between his legs onto the floor.

 

“Do you went food first?” He questions.

 

“I am pretty hungry” Gerald states andwith that they order a pair of clam cakes and salmon. Plus some brandy.

 

“Is this a good place to talk about it?” Lovecrafts inquires.

 

“I don’t know. There could be people working for him here. I’m pretty sure he’s in the mafia. As you know, the mafia is pretty prominent from Boston, here and to New York. You never know”

 

“I’ll respect that. Though I would like to know what you do for a living and what your wife does if that’s repelling”

 

“Oh no it’s not! My wife likes to write and paint. I was a farmer back in Wyoming and came here to buy some cattle when I met her. I do have in instrest in reading. I really love her books. There about the supernatural. Much like you have written. After that and marrying her I settled between farming in Wyoming and helping publish her books. It’s quite nice” The man smiled melancholy.

 

“I think I’ve had heard about books that your wife has written. I’ve never looked into them. Perhaps next time I’m looking for something to read I shall pick one of her books up” Lovecraft smiled as Gerald nodded.

 

Their drinks were placed in front of them as Lovecraft finished what he had to say. The waiter sauntered off to attend to other patrons.

 

“Is this what you do when your not writing?” Gerald asked. Lovecraft cracked a grin.

 

“Oh no. I usually stay in my home working all the time. I write and write. Never taking breaks but I do like taking rides on my bike occasionally. Though I like coming here from time to time with my friends and having a drink and a hearty laugh.” He stated. Twirling his drink he took a sip. Gerald copied him.

 

The brandy was strong and Howard loved it. He took another sip and set it down.

 

“Can I ask you something.... Howard?” Gerald asked.

 

“Sure. What do you want to know”

 

“How was it with your wife. I heard it ended not so good”

 

Lovecraft looked at Gerald with surprise. A question about Sonia? Odd.

 

“She.. she was nice, caring and adventurous and stable. I would of stayed with her forever if it weren’t for her interestin jobs across the country. I love Providence, this city will always be my home. I cannot imagine moving away yet she wanted to so I went with her. We needed money, we weren’t rich so I went with her to help. It didn’t work out. I was homesick and she wanted to move again and I couldn’t bear the thought of moving even farther away from Rhode Island. It seemed all she cared about then was her new job in a far away state” Howard picked up his drink, occupying himself with its taste.

 

“Oh I’m sorry. I only ask not out of interest in your life but of how things went down with your wife. See I’m afraid of things going wrong with Molly so when I encounter new people with wives I ask them what they do to keep their wife happy or what went wrong. So if anything I could try to fix it before it ensures. You’ve helped me with that. My wife is the one who dosnt like moving but she will come to Wyoming from time to time and I respect that. I can see what happened to you and your wife” Gerald told this in a low voice but uplifting at the same time.

 

Lovecraft was now very intrigued.

 

“Why? What do you see went wrong with me and my wife” He asked.

 

The other man paused and began.

 

“Well it seems as if she didn’t respect that you wanted to be at peace in your home state. It is obvious as you said that you needed money and she was striving to get it. But did she ever say that you could go back and she would visit you or you could visit her from time to time?”

 

“No. Never”

 

“There! See! She wasn’t as loyal, she could of been loving but it seems as if she didn’t think that. She may of been loyal in ways but that was the problem. She didn’t give you all that you needed and that’s what ended your marriage” Gerald told him.

 

Howard swallowed. Looking down at his drink. Feeling sorry for himself yet a little flame of anger now bit at himself at the thought of what Sonia did.

 

“I guess your right” he lifted his head and smiled sadly at the young man. They went back to silence. Drinking. Howard brooded in sadness and anger yet he still asked this probing question whenever he met someone.

 

“Gerald? What are your dreams?”

 

Gerald looked up perplexed. Forehead creased as the man thought.

 

“I don’t. I don’t know truely. I am happy with Molly. I never really thought about it. When I was young I never thought about being famous or anything. But to have a caring beautiful wife.” He scrunched his face up once more and a second later answered again.

 

“I think, I think at a time I wanted to see the world even if it meant leaving loved ones. I also wanted to see world history and the scenery of counties” he confessed.

 

Lovecraft grinned.

 

“I think after we get your wife back you should go on a adventure with her. Turn her mind elsewhere. She would love it. To travel the world is a great dream. Everyman should strive to what they dream. It is possible” Lovecraft spoke.

 

They stayed there and Gerald clearly thought about this. He reminded quiet until he began smiling.

 

“That is great. I would enjoy it and surly my wife will” he stated picking up his brandy.

 

Their drinks were nearly gone when their food arrived. They ordered more. The food was steaming yet they ate through it. The clam cakes delicious as was the salmon. After they were done they order some beer and shots of tequila.

 

They were served their liquors. Picking up the shot they clicked them together and threw back their heads. Gulping down the tequila. They did this a number of times. Laughing ensured soon after, jokes went around and they drank to the high heavens. Consuming whole glasses of beer in turn helped them even make.

 

Before long they were joking like old friends. Enjoying their time. Gerald’s mood was light hearted. Now totally unaware what reality had in store for him at this very moment.

 

They didn’t utter a word about reality as they chatted about the hysterical. Mostly Gerald telling jokes that he heard or expirenced when he was younger. The man’s hair was once again disheveled. Face flushed from the liquor. He was jolly.

 

“Anymore?” Howard asked. Delighted.

 

“No. I don’t think so” His face blank but lighten as something came to mind.

 

“Oh I know!” The guy smiled devilishly.

 

“I know a magic trick. Nothing special but surely different from others.

 

“Really! What is it?” Lovecraft inquired.

 

“Well If you want to know I have to show you. Here, hold out your hand. This will surely amaze you” Howard stuck his arm out across the table and Gerald carefully took his hand.

 

His hand was cold, ice cold but Howard didn’t flinch. Laying his hand on the table, facing upwards he covered it with his other hand.

 

“Your other hand please?” Howard obliged and his other hand laid on the table near his other.

 

“On my say I’m going to remove my hand you have to cover it with your hand. Then again as I say but separate your hands just a little though not terribly far”

 

“Okay.” Howard nodded his head.

 

The man began murmuring something, passing his other hand back and forth over both their hands. Their hands staying still and Howard held his breath.

 

“Ok”

 

Gerald remove his hand and Lovecraft quickly covered his right hand with his left.

 

He didn’t see anything. Yet.

 

The younger man began mumbling again. Touched his own forhead then Howard’s then to his hand. He went back to mumbling then after a few seconds then nodded to him.

 

Lovecraft pulled his hands apart, not far and nearly gasped. This was unnatural! Truely amazing!

 

Tendrils of star like glaaxies flowed through his hands. It was like witchcraft. It was mesmerizing. He couldn’t speak. Only gap and continue to watch it move through his hands and around each other.

 

“how?”

 

“I don’t know to be sure. All I know is that some years ago some lady taught it to me. She could of been a witch. Who knows. I don’t know what it means but all I know is that it’s mesmerizing and passes time if it gets boring”

 

“Closing your hands altogether will stop it”

 

Lovecraft didn’t want to but after some time he reluctantly did. He felt downcasted as it disappeared and looked back at Gerald.

 

“Could you teach me to do that?” He questioned.

 

Gerald scratched his head.

 

“It takes awhile. Definitely not here but maybe sometime in the future”

 

Howard agreed with him.

 

He collected his hands and reached for his drink, finishing it off. Their waiter came back.

 

“Is that all sir’s?” The man asked.

 

“Yes it will be” Gerald replied

 

The waiter stood there, fishing out a pen, writing away on something and setting their bill on the table.

 

Howard reaches for his wallet.

 

“No worries, I’ll pay for it” Gerald dug around in his pockets, produced some money and slapped it down on the table next to the bill.

 

Both in a good mood they stood, Lovecraft grabbing his case and exiting the building with him. Standing out in the street they stood quietly.

 

Lovecraft patted Gerald’s shoulder.

 

“Now now, be good Gerald. Have a safe travel home. I’ll contact you soonwhen I get information. Then come immediately back here. I’ll tell you where to meeet up. Good?” Lovecraft knew he was being his awkward weird way. He hated how he laughed but right now but he didn’t care.

 

“Of course Howard! Of course!”

 

They both exited the bar and split. Walking different ways. The sky was dark yet the city lights and street lights enveloped him.

 

He walked partly unstable up the roads ,taking the long way to his home. Making sure he wouldn’t fall down the hill if he tripped. He was halfway out of his mind now. Mind blank as he walked. Shoes scraping along the pavement

 

The time he neared his house he was halfway sober and glad about that. He began walking more straight and promptly faster.

 

His home is enveloped with light, orange and inviting in the darkness. It’s nearly blurry to his eyes. He steps up to the door, unlocks it and enters. Wobbly on his feet he walks down the hallway and he is met by his aunt who comes running up to him and hugs him. Her arms tighten around him and he huffs. To tight. Patting her back he steps out of the embrace and looks at her.

 

“Dear Howard! You’ve been gone all day! I haven’t seen you. Why don’t you come and eat dinner with me this time then be stuck in your room forever?!” Her voice slices right through him and he cannot put any objection forward. He obliges.

 

Minutes later he is sitting at the table as his aunt is serving them and in no time she is sitting down. Trying to put food in front of him, anything.

 

He wanted to think about what happened today. To figure out a plan. But his aunt was getting in the way. He couldn’t blam her. But he is partly drunk right now and he desperately wants to sleep.

 

By the while, she hadn’tnoticed how he is drunk. His eyelids are heavy. Though the liquors effect is nearly subsided yet it is still there.

 

She pushes food in front of him. Some fish and chips yet he only stares at it. He’s full.

He doesn’t want to eat .

 

“Here eat.!”

 

“I don’t need to Gamwell, I am not hungry”

 

“Well then Howard. You are wasting food! Look at you! Your so skinny. Now eat and tell me how your day went” Lovecraft sighed and picked up his fork.

 

Poking at the Fryes and Fish. He reluctantly begins to eat. Small bites. His stomach protests.

 

“Now anything eventful happened at all today?” His aunt asks him who is eating her meal graciously.

 

“No. Nothing much. I worked on a story I’m currently on in the university. Besides that I bumped into a fellow who I met some years ago. It was nice talking to him” He wasn’t lying all the way but It was still a lie.

 

His aunt huffed.

 

“Is that all you do Howard? Write! Go do something fun!” She smiled.

 

“Writing is my fun. I love creating stories” He sighed. Picking up more of the fish he ate it. Halfway done. He wanted to throw up.

 

His aunt stays quiet for some time then erupts back into chatter. He tones it out. Her stories are boring. They always bored him. Since he was young. 

 

In a couple of minutes he finishes and leaves his plate. Walking up the stairs he nearly pukes. To much food. It wasn’t good.

 

Opening the door to his room he flicks his light on and saunters over to his bookcase. Yet he is tried, so tired and to full. Sickeningly so but he wouldn’t miss this for the world. The urge to read something dark and he knew eaxtcly what to read.

 

Sloppily pulling out a book by Edgar Allan Poe. A collection of some of his stories and poems. Flipping random pages he falls on the story of The Tell-Tale Heart. A story of murder. Such gothic design that he loved.

 

If he could he would spend internity reading Poe. He would even sell part of his soul to meet the very one.

 

Reading this story enveloped him. His eyes were glued to the pages of the old book. An original. Would he say that he read this story many of times? Yes. He had read this book time over time again. It would never bore him.

 

His heart flutters and his breath hitches as he reads more and more. Every time a new experience, a new story. Yet the talewas so old, so well read that it was laid out detail by detail in his brain that he could speak the story out loud without ever looking at the book.

 

When he was finished he looked up at his the vintage book and breathed. Taking in its flawless design and how truely extraordinary Poe was.

 

He turned the pages once more and landed on a poem. Gracing himself it it.

 

And he read allowed to himself. His voice soothing to his ears. Lulling him to a sleep.

 

“Thou wast that all to me, love,

For which my soul did pine—

A green isle in the sea, love,

A fountain and a shrine,

All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,

And all the flowers were mine.

 

Ah, dream too bright to last!

Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise

But to be overcast!

A voice from out the Future cries,

“On! on!”—but o’er the Past

(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies

Mute, motionless, aghast!

 

For, alas! alas! with me

The light of Life is o’er!

No more—no more—no more—

(Such language holds the solemn sea

To the sands upon the shore)

Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,

Or the stricken eagle soar!

 

And all my days are trances,

And all my nightly dreams

Are where thy grey eye glances,

And where thy footstep gleams—

In what ethereal dances,

By what eternal streams.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sonia was dragging him to the floor. He didn’t want to go but he would do whatever Sonia asked of him.

 

Slow music was playing as some couples were already on the dance floor. Twirling about in elegance.

 

“I...I... i don’t know how to dance Sonia. “ He stumbled. Mortified. She turned and looked at him.

 

“You’ll be fine Howard. Just follow my lead”

 

“Your lead?! Do you even know how do dance!”

 

“Yes in fact I do! Now here, give me your hand.” Howard wasn’t stupid, he knew where to put his hands but besides that he hand no idea how to sway or step.

 

“I know that. I just don’t know how to step” He put his hand on her waist and the other in her hand.

 

They were now on the ballroom floor. People were watching them.

 

“I’ll tell you, don’t worry”

 

“Okay”

 

The music slowed even more and Sonia stepped to the right. He followed, a bit clumsy.

 

“Slide your feet. When you feel me moving slide your feet that way. Don’t hesitate”

 

Howard nods. The next time she moves he slides his feet with hers. It was easier, more noteworthy.

 

“There, you got it” Sonia praised him. Her body was warm, sleek in that dress, nearly flush agaist his. He puffed as they sharply turned.

 

“God! Easy”

 

She wacked his shoulder.

 

“Don’t start now” she laughed as they moved along with the music. To and fro through the other dancers. Him in his suit, her in her summer dress.

 

Her warm breath puffed in his face as he breathed it in. A sweet smell. He smiled, looking down into her beautiful dreamy eyes.

 

“Your quite good at this for a first timer. Not even tripping over my feet. Are you sure you never danced before?”

 

“No never! I’m just slowing my feet down more than you do so I don’t step on yours.... I’m unsure” He went. They tuned once more and nearly bumped into another couple

 

“Easy there”

 

“Im trying!”

 

Howard was beginning to get flustered. Worried about what people thought about him dancing. Could they see how bad he was? Did Sonia dislike him because do this? Surely not. Though a number of times he accidentally pushed her back, nearly making both of them stumble and fall.

 

Sonia was calm, patient. Smiling. She was enjoying it even though Howard complained. Even when he made a mistake here and there.

 

Soon they were moving around the room in sync. She was lost in the dancing while Howard was on the edge of anxiety. Painfully aware of everything. He was beginning to feel sweat stem on his forhead.

 

“There! You’re doing it Howard! So fine, sograce like” She smiled. Her hand was curved around his neck, slightly playing with his hair. Her other hand steady on his side.

 

Then they twisted. Howard thought he would royally mess this up but he actually succeeded at preforming the twist.

 

Tightening his hand around hers, she let go of him and he spun her back. Her dresssplaying out. Then bringing her back in. This time she not so gracefully crashed into him but he caught her nonetheless. Even so it looked good and her body was resting against his. Arms around him, hand in hand. He smiled. She smiled back.

 

“That was excellent” She laughed, him chucking.

 

“I loved it Howard! It seems your natural at this” His face went red.

 

“I never really tired anything else than writing.” He grinned

 

“You should!”

 

They we’re still dancing and soon the music began to come to a close. When the music did end they stopped and looked around. The other dancers had stopped on the beat with them and the audience clapped to all.

 

Howard had a lopsided grin on his face at this. Eventually he pulled Sonia quickly back to their table. Regaining their breath.

 

A bill laid on the table and they paid their amount. Quickly exiting the building Sonia leaned against him. Looking at him with love.

 

“I knew you could dance. I had a such a good time. We should do that again” She jabbed him.

 

“Again? No no!”

 

“Yes! Please! That was such fun” She tried persuading him.

 

He looked down at her. Her soulful pleasing eyes at him. He relented.

 

“Well alright. But somewhere where there ain’t that many of people”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He lurches forward this time. On a edge of a scream. His chest heaves and he puts his hands to his face. Digging into his hair and wiping. His eyes are on the forefront of tearing. His heart beats fast and he thinks he is going to have a heart attack. His chest hurts as well as his head, neck and back. 

 

He’s able to get up quicker this time but it still takes time. Theses dreams are draining his energy, his soul. He feels as if something inside him is being forcefully being ripped away and the pain. God the pain. The constant pain he wakes up to everyday. He wont be able to deal with it any longer if it keeps up like it is.

 

These dreams of nightmares. They are the same in a way. He never once heard of someone having dreams like his or even constant. Over and over each night. Plus there is seldom anyone in the dreams. Those who are usually turn into unspeakable things. What did that even mean?

 

Was something going on that he hadn’tgrasped yet? Possibly. Maybe he’s having visions! He’s heard of people in their dreams seeing the future or something along the lines of that. But was that possible. Was he seeing something that was going to happen? No, those things weren’t possible.

 

Then what Robert had showed him hit him hard. If those reports were right, then the whole of humanity was in danger. The Earth even. How could something he imagined become real? Lest, these stories come from his dreams. So yet again, where do these dreams stem from?

 

The reality is difficult to understand. Though one thing was obvious, if this was all real then these beings were trying to contact him. In sense, he was controlling the world. The fate of Earth by contacting these beings in a way.

 

Howard staggered at the realization. Really? Was that so.. He clenched his hands and rested his head upon the wall.Breathing much faster than normal. This wasn’t good at all. Nothing good would become of it. Any mortal that had to do will godly beings always ended in disarray and death.

 

He shakes his head. Clearing all thoughts and looks to the time.

 

“Oh dear!” It was eleven o’clock. Now nearly afternoon. He rushes to get dressed and exits his house without a glance at food. He makes his way to the university. Not to write but to investigate. He has things to accomplish.

 

What he promised Gerald the other day he needs information on. While walking there he makes up another plan. He should gather information more about the occult and that of visions in dreams and such. There most likely wouldn’t be anything there that had any focus on visions or ideas but he would try.

 

He is now inside the university’s library. The door he usually works in. Once again it’s quiet. Rows upon rows of books like the place. Some very recent while others are not.

 

He looks for books on dreams and comps like beings. He finds a assortment of them. Bringing them back to a table he lays them there then goes back to the books. He is looking for books or papers, documentaries on gangs in Rhode Island. Or perhaps people in them. He finds only couple of books. Besides those he achieves in looking for books on real life murder cases. Kidnappings and Murders. He grabs those to.

 

By the time he sits down at the table there is a good collection of books before him. Around thirteen.

 

He first explores the books on Rhode Island and it’s connection to the Mafia. He finds plenty of things about them. How they connect to Boston and New York. That a big gang leader is set up in Rhode Island. But there is an ominous point in the book. It relates among many people having to do with the mob that a man in Rhode Island. That he has things connect to trafficking people or kidnapping them and that just, just might be a writer or something along the lines of that.

 

It made Lovecraft sit back and think. There was no real evidence claiming who it was or if it could possibly be Roy Clark. The book was rather new so it could be possible. But without a name he couldn’t be sure.

 

Besides that one book he couldn’t find any other evidence across other books like this one. None others stated anything about a writer like person in Rhode Island that has to do with the mob. It was irritating but it was a okay start. Good enough evidence he supposed.

 

Casting those books aside he delved into the forensic texts. Finding different information on different cases having to do with murder and kidnapping. So on and what happens, why and how. It was disturbing yet intriguing. Such as when it mentioned Jack the Ripper. That story nearly took him off course but he ignored the urge and got up. Putting those book away he went back and opened the ones about dreams.

 

He didn’t know if he was successful or not in finding information about Roy Clark. It was little but enough. The guy in his perspective, working for him for some time was charming. Joyful, easy going. Traits of someone who could possibly flip on someone. He needed to be aware now. The guy was dark. He has more to tell Gerald.

 

The rest of the books that laid on the table silent and awaiting we’re the ones of dreams and visions of the cosmos. Just what he needed.

 

One of the books had nothing on what he needed. It just had a bunch of information on what dreams meant and how they form that he didn’t need. The other two were much more interesting. One of them touched on the subject of lucid dreams and witchcraft doings with dreams. Such as seer’s, prophets and mediums.

 

A seer was one who was able to see the future. Most of their visions were correct but it depended on how skilled or gifted this seer was. One could predict the future with great Accuracy while some couldn’t. Yet their visions were close to what it would be.

 

Lucid dreaming was on more of the line of controlling the dreamscape. Howard wouldn’t be able to control his dreams so he cast that aside.

 

He went onto the witchcraft part and this is when it got extremely interesting. This was what he’d been looking for. What he found was mind blowing.

 

The facts were prominent and scientific. Ancient. It told of how people that could control magik or dark matter could alter someone’s dreams. They could also cast a spell to either let themselves or someone else communicate with another being. Either dead or alive. Like what Necromancywas or his very own Necocomicon but not quite exactly.

 

There were also mentions of Theurgy and death. Yet when it touched the subject of cosmos doings with stars and astrology that had to do with dreams it both lacked and made up in facts. There were accounts that aliens like beings could contact one, such as the dead with witchcraft.

 

It explained that if one person should be contacted by higher beings that they were quite special. That their blood is royal to the universe. They would play a significant role in the universe. These beings wanted something from them but it was unclear what.

 

This understanding made Lovecraft shake. And he stumbled to his feet. Putting the books away as fast as he could and exiting the library without a second thought. 

 

He doesn’t look back behind him as he walks out of the gates of the university and in no time is back at his house collecting his bike. He had one more place to visit and this was very risky business he was going into now.

 

Taking his bike and swinging his leg over. He takes the way he always used since the first day. The first day going to Pawtucket. To the RI horror writing company.

 

As he rides down the road he tries to regulate his breath which has now picked up. The anxiety about what he’s going to do is nearly to much to bear. It omits clawing at his throat. Vice like. He laughed the thoughts away from the library yet these new thoughts invade.

 

He knows once he enters the building that anybody that greets him he shall say hello. Act normal. Be normal. He would tell them he was giving something to Roy who in all honest he had nothing for and if he was there he had no idea what he would say. He would just hope for him to not be there.

 

Besides the man was always never there.

 

In a couple of minutes he’s at the building. He sets his bike against the house like binding like always and walks up to the door. Slowly opening the door he makes sure it don’t creek and let’s it slide back in place. It made a soft click. He stands inside for a couple of seconds. He hears no voices, no typewriters, no footsteps.

 

He releases his breath ever so slightly. Today was a work day yet no one was in or perhaps they were. The staircase was to his right He he turns to go up it. Abiding the fourth step which creaked he stepped lightly, holding in his breath to keep his body weight light and ribs upwards. When he reaches the top he stands near the wall, listening.

 

He hears nothing. Silence is what greets him. He breathes out. His heart is in his throat. He creeps along the hallway. The door that’s always shut is shut. The other one is wide open. No one occupies it.

 

He is at the final door. Roy’s office. Surely someone is in there? He stays behind the wall. Listening. There is nothing. He raises his head and peeks. Nothing is there. He breathes a sigh of relief.

 

Entering the room showed that yes, no one was there. The room was enveloped with light from the windows. The desk in the other side of the room sat silent. A journal sat on the couch while papers were on the desk.

 

He walks over to the couch. Picking up the journal he rifles through it. Many of the pages are drawings but he stops at a couple of them. Perplexed. Some showed people, many of people. Some dressed like gang members yet others normal citizens. His face turned into a grim frown.

 

He nearly dropped the journal when one page revealed a drawing of Gerald’s wife. It looked like her, so much. It was a full bust of the women who seemed to be enveloped in sunshine. But that was it. Next to it was signed the man’s watermark and the name of the woman.

 

Molly

 

He got the chills. Setting the journal back down he went to the desk and went to sit in the chair. The papers upon the desk were of nothing but regular manuscripts. Revising and editing stories and such that the company needed. Bills and loans. Requests and letters.

 

The desk only has two other drawers which were the first is unlocked. Opening that had a storage of money and writing the utensils. He closes the draw and tries to open the second. It doesn’t budge. Looking around he spot a sharp thin metal object and grabs it. Jamming it in between the desk and drawer it cracks it open as he pulls. Casting it aside he fully opens the drawer.

 

He squints his eyes as he takes out a number of papers. Clearly not of doings with writing. Why they hell would this man keep them here out of all places?! Was he an imbecile. Probably. Howard scoffed.

 

Kicking the draw shit he shuffled the papers and looks through them. Spending some time he careful skims them. He has about twenty five pages in his hand. Looking through them some of them had to do with the mafia. Other papers were about moving money back and forth. He put those back into the draw but kept the ones about the mafia. Solely on it and what Roy has to do with them. Some of them stated requests and orders he should he follow by.

 

Scanning through more seemed useless as he dumped those in yet one caught his eye. The name showed in his sight.

 

Molly Cabanne

 

There, this was it.

 

It read that an order was to obtain her money that she had collect over selling her books and should send it to one of the Mafia leaders.

 

Apparently the idea of obtaining her money went a different way where it wasn’t just her money they got but her herself. This was proof right here. But it didn’t state where. He grumbled at this.

 

He just needed one more thing. But he wasn’t sure what.

 

Stuffing those papers together and into his shirt Howard exits the room, eyes wide. Hands shaking.

 

Walking carefully but quickly along the hallway he looks to the closed door. Something odd emitted from there every time he passed that door.

 

Howard knew he needed to get in their. He knew whatever lied in their truely would show the colours of who Roy Clark really was. But he didn’t have time or the resources. He had overstayed to long for his liking. The risk of someone seeing him was great. He shivered.

 

He reaches the stairs and descends them. He totally forgets about the fourth step and when his foot hits it, it creaks. Loud and echoing around the house. He swallows.

 

As he makes for the landing, placing his feet on the ground floor he can hear someone or something. It’s a very loud sound. Coming from somewhere in the building. It makes his hair on the back of his neck stand up. His heart drops and he makes for the door. He has no idea what that was or is. Is scares him that he isn’t cautious. Letting the door fly back and making a loud bang.

 

He grabs for his bike, swinging his legs over as fast as he and hopped. Forcing the bike to roll he raises his legs and starts peddling. Standing he pedals down the road and turns. Nearly making the bike fall underneath him. His heart is beating fast. Faster than anything before he ever expirenced. Even when he had his nightmares.

 

Fear is licking at his mind as the turns onto the main streets and headed to Providence. His legs hurt as he kept pedaling. Not even minding to slow down. If he kept this up he was surely going to pass out. He eventually slowed down when he came near the university.

 

He was breathing hard and his chest aflame. It hurt. He let the bike glide along. Resting his arms along the handlebars and legs dangling. He could feel the papers and such crinkled in his shirt.

 

That wasn’t fun. Someone was going to find out who took it. Roy would notice that the papers were gone. Someone must of saw him. But none of them knew where he lived. He never changed his address when he came back to the city. Which prevented them from coming directly to him. It gave him time just in case.

 

Patting his hair down, he let go of the handle bars and leaned back. Staring the bike with his legs. Coughing erupted from him and he heaved. It hurt, his throat going raw. He swallowed a cough and puffed.

 

He couldn’t believe he actually did that. Stole papers that Roy kept all to himself! Jeez, this was going down south quickly. Something bad was going to become of this for sure.

 

Upon nearing his house he stopped his bike and slid off the seat. Stretching his legs he began walking the rest of the way. When nearing his property he turned at the flash of something. His heart leapt to his throat. Thinking someone had followed him and was about to beat him up. But his shoulders relaxed as it was only a animal.

 

A lone cat who poked his head around the meager little fence. The cat had moss green eyes. Chocolate brown spiked fur with grey and black markings. It meowed and cautiously crept up to him. It’s fur was a little bit ragged albeit skinny. It looked up to him with big eyes and he stared souls deep into them.

 

He felt sorry for it, watching as it sat down a few feet from him. Watching him with curious eyes. Grabbing his bike once again he walked it to the house. Setting it aside and turning to go up the stairs.

 

He startled as the cat was now right in front of him. Inside the yard, on the green grass. Only three feet away. It meowed again. Stepping up the stairs to him. As he turned the cat followed him. Hopping up each of the steps not so gracefully.

 

Pitty for the cat struck him and he sat down. The cat coming up to him without a fear in mind. Rubbing its body agaist his leg. Stretching his hand out he began petting the cat. Down the back and round the ears. It purred and rubbed its head agaist his hand.

 

He smiled softly. He needs to review the papers more. Then contact Gerald and go back to the Pawtucket building and break into that door no matter the cost.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please Note that this story isn’t true of course, it’s based upon a real life people and other people that are in history. Many of the events in this book happened.
> 
> There are some that aren’t real of course.
> 
> All the places in this stort besides dreaming are real places.
> 
> If any of you readers are confused in the settings just comment & I’ll answer what ever u have a question on.


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